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IN    SONG: 


HYMNS   AND   HYMN-WRITERS 


lang  Itan&s  sn&  §g«s. 


NEW    YORK: 
ROBERT    CARTER    ft    BROTHERS, 

No.    530    BROADWAY. 
1859. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/christianOOchar 


CONTENTS. 


Chap.    I.  Hymns  of  the  Bible,      . 

II.  The  u  Tersanctus,"  the  "  Gloria  in  Ex 

CELSIS,"    AND  THE    "  TE    DEUM," 

III.  The  Anonymous  Greek  Hymns, 

IV.  Clement  of  Alexandria,   Ephraem  Syrus, 

and  Gregory  of  Nazianzum, 
V.  St  Ambrose  and  the  Ambrosian  Hymns, 
VI.  Gregory  the  Great,  Venantius  Fortunatus. 

and  the  Venerable  Bede, 
VII.  St  Bernard,    .... 
VIII.  Medieval  Hymns,  . 
IX.  Medieval  Religion, 
X.  The  Hymns  of  Germany, 
XI.  Swedish  Hymns,     . 
XII.  English  Hymns, 

XIII.  Hymns  of  the  Church  of  Rome  since  the 

Reformation, 

XIV.  Conclusion,  .... 


PAGE 
1 


12 
22 


71 

113 
145 

1G7 
199 
215 
245 
252 

283 
29G 


PREFACE. 


The  translations  in  the  following  pages  are  all  new, 
unless  when  the  contrary  is  stated;  because,  the 
object  of  the  translator  being  rather  historical  than 
literary,  it  was  more  essential  than  in  ordinary  cases 
that  the  colouring  of  the  present  should  not  be 
thrown  over  the  faith  of  the  past.  The  first  aim, 
therefore,  has  been  to  represent  faithfully  the  creed 
of  the  hymn-writers — the  next,  to  reproduce  their 
thoughts  and  images.  Wherever  this  has  been  found 
practicable,  the  original  metres  have  been  imitated. 

It  is  hoped  that  this  volume  will  explain  its  own 
purpose;  and  it  therefore  only  remains  to  state  the 
authorities  on  which  the  hymns  and  biographies  are 
given. 

The  historical  facts  are  drawn  from  the  ordinary 


IV  PREFACE. 

histories  and  biographies  —  German,  French,  and 
English. 

The  Oriental,  Ambrosian,  and  Mediaeval  hymns 
have  been  selected  and  translated  from  those  in  Da- 
niel's "  Thesaurus  Hymnologicus,"  Mdne's  "  Hymni 
Latini  Medii  ./Evi,"  and  Trench's  "  Sacred  Latin 
Poetry."  The  hymns  of  Ephraem  Syrus  have  been 
re-translated  from  the  German  version  of  the  Syriac 
given  in  Daniel's  "Thesaurus;"  all  the  rest  have 
been  rendered  from  the  original  languages,  and  are 
commended  to  the  charity  of  those  whose  greater 
familiarity  with  classical  literature  may  detect  blem- 
ishes unperceived  by  the  translator. 

The  German  hymns  have  been  translated  from 
Dr  Leopold  Pasig's  edition  of  Luther's  "Geistliche 
Lieder,"  Albert  Knapp's  "  Liederschatz,"  and  a 
"  Sammlung  von  Kirch  enliedern  aus  dem  Gesang- 
buche  der  evangelischen  Briidergemeinen ; "  the 
Swedish,  from  hymns  kindly  sent  to  the  writer  by 
Swedish  friends. 

If  the  Christian  men  of  former  times  cannot  be 
our  perfect  examples,  since  we  and  they  may  own 
but  One,  they  are  still  our  fathers ;  and  their  creed, 


PREFACE.  V 

although  not  our  Bible,  is  nevertheless  our  precious 
and  sacred  heritage.  It  is  trusted  that  the  treasures 
of  sacred  song,  faintly  reflected  in  these  translations, 
may  serve  to  illustrate  that  unity  of  faith  which 
hinds  one  age  to  another  through  the  Communion 
of  Saints.  If  they  help  to  raise  any  hearts  to  Hi  n 
in  whom  alone  that  unity  is  life,  the  first  and  dearest 
purpose  of  the  writer  will  be  attained. 


K 


• 


CHAPTER    I. 


HYMNS  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


If  church  history  be  anything  different  from  secular 
history,  it  should  be  the  record  of  Christian  truth,  speak- 
ing through  the  lives  of  Christian  men ;  the  story  of  the 
struggle  between  selfishness  and  Divine  love,  of  the  Life 
which  has  pierced  through  and  outlived  the  corruption 
and  decay  of  States ;  the  echo  of  the  accents  of  truth  and 
love,  penetrating,  like  a  musical  tone,  through  the  market- 
din  and  battle-tumult  of  the  world.  But,  too  often,  how 
different  is  the  fact !'  With  what  a  weariness  of  disappoint- 
ment we  turn  from  pages  which  seem  but  the  transferring 
of  the  old,  selfish,  secular  ambitions  to  a  new  arena;  the 
name  of  truth,  and  even  of  God,  being  merely  the  weapon 
of  the  strife,  whilst  Self  is  the  god  whose  glory  is  con- 
tended for ! 

Yet  we  are  sure,  since  the  Prince  of  life  arose  from  the 
tomb,  the  life  of  Christianity  has  never  been  altogether 
buried  again  ;  and  to  watch  for  it,  and  rejoice  in  it  when 
found,  seem  the  only  objects  for  which  church  history 
is  worth  being  studied. 

And  as  we  watch,  much  is  revealed  to  us.  We  trace 
Christian  life  through  its  various  manifestations  of  love, 


2  HYMNS  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

and  find  the  golden  chain  unbroken  through  the  ages, 
however  dim  at  times  the  gold  may  shine.  It  manifests 
itself  in  its  expansive  form  of  love  to  man,  in  countless 
works  of  mercy,  in  missions,  and  hospitals,  and  ransomings 
of  captives,  and  individual  acts  of  love  and  self-sacrifice 
which  cannot  be  numbered.  "We  trace  it  in  its  direct 
manifestation  of  love  to  God,  in  martyrdoms  and  in 
hymns;  the  yielding  up  of  the  life  to  death  for  truth, 
and  the  breathing  out  of  the  soul  to  God  in  song. 

The  object  of  these  pages  is  to  follow  the  last  track,  by 
listening  to  the  voice  of  that  stream  of  spiritual  song 
which  has  never  been  altogether  silent  on  earth;  by 
attempting  to  reproduce  some  notes  of  the  song,  and 
some  likeness  of  the  singers. 

And  may  not  such  a  search  have  its  peculiar  use,  in  a 
day  and  a  land  like  ours  1  It  is,  no  doubt,  difficult  to 
ascertain  the  true  characteristics  of  the  nation  or  the 
times  we  live  amongst;  partly  because  we  are  too  near 
to  make  the  perspective  correct,  and  partly  because  the 
atmosphere  which  colours  the  scene  also  colours  our  own 
minds.  The  rumble  of  the  highway  we  are  treading  over- 
powers the  roar  of  the  retreating  thunder-storm ;  the  riot 
of  to-day  sounds  louder  than  the  revolution  of  the  last 
century ;  and  thus  age  after  age  has  seemed  to  hear  in  its 
own  tumults  the  echo  of  those  chariot- wheels  which  are 
still  long  in  coming. 

Yet  some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  sea  we  are  sailing 
on  we  must  know,  for  safety,  if  not  for  science.  Would 
it  not,  for  instance,  be  generally  admitted,  that  the  cha- 
racter of  Christian  life,  in  our  own  time,  is  rather  humane 
than  devotional,  its  tendency  rather  outward  than  upward, 


THE  FIRST  AND  LAST  HYMN.  6 

its  utterance  rather  in  works  of  mercy  than  in  songs  of 
praise  ?  Have  we  not  all  to  be  especially  on  our  guard 
that  we  do  nbt  make  our  worship  merely  public  service, 
and  so  fail  to  make  our  service  worship  ?  In  our  own 
free  age  and  country,  when  opportunities  for  doing  good 
are  so  multiplied,  when  there  is  not  a  talent  or  a  grace 
but  may  find  its  own  full  and  appropriate  exercise  in  the 
great  field  of  work,  may  we  not  learn  something  from  the 
men  of  those  more  fettered  days,  when  Christian  life, 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides  but  one,  rose  with  all  its  force 
towards  the  heavens,  from  which  no  human  tyranny  could 
shut  it  out  ?  And  thus  may  we  learn  more  to  seek  com- 
munion with  God,  not  merely  as  the  strength  for  work, 
but  as  the  end  and  crown  of  all  work;  not  chiefly  as  the 
means  of  life,  but  its  highest  object. 

Not,  indeed,  that  active  and  contemplative  piety  are 
opposed  to  each  other.  Martha's  service  would  have  been 
more  efficient  had  it  been  less  cumbered,  had  she  listened 
as  well  as  served.  Mary,  when  the  time  came,  could  anoint 
the  feet  at  which  she  had  loved  to  sit,  with  ointment 
whose  perfume  filled  the  house.  And  those  who  serve  God 
best  of  all  are  those  who  "  see  His  face." 

Nor  in  these  busy  times  of  ours  has  the  service  of  song 
ceased  on  earth;  the  melody  in  the  heart  flows  on  still, 
and  gushes  forth  in  music;  and  it  is  not  of  an  extinct 
species  that  we  think  when  we  search  out  those  old 
hymns.  The  accents  of  the  first  singers  are  no  dead  lan- 
guage to  us,  and  their  life  is  ours.  The  first  hymn  re- 
corded in  the  Bible  is  also  the  last  :  the  song  chanted 
first  on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea,  echoes  back  to  us  from 
the  "  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire." 


4:  HYMNS  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

Of  the  mode  of  worship  in  the  old  patriarchal  times, 
we  know  little;  but,  surely,  music  was  not  only  heard  in 
the  city  of  Cain.  Earth  can  never  have  been  without  her 
song  to  God.  The  first  wave  of  promise  which  flowed  in 
to  cover  the  first  wave  of  sin,  must  have  found  its  response 
in  the  heart  of  man ;  but  after  the  first  universal  hymn  of 
Eden  was  broken,  and  the  music  of  creation  fell  into  a 
minor,  whilst  the  wail  of  human  sin  and  sorrow  ran  across 
all  its  harmonies,  a  long  silence  reigns  in  the  hymn-book 
of  the  Church  universal ;  and  through  all  the  records  of 
violence  and  judgment,  from  the  flood  and  the  ark,  from 
patriarchal  tent  and  Egyptian  kingdom,  the  only  song 
which  has  reached  us  is  the  wail  of  a  murderer  echoing 
the  curse  of  Cain. 

We  read  of  altar  and  sacrifice,  of  meditations  in  the 
fields  at  eventide,  of  visions,  and  prayers,  and  accepted 
intercessions,  and  we  feel  sure  that  those  who  walked  in 
the  light,  like  Enoch  or  Abraham,  must  have  had  their 
hearts  kindled  into  music.  But  from  the  green  earth 
rising  out  of  the  flood ;  from  the  shadow  of  the  great  oak 
at  Mamre ;  from  the  fountains  and  valleys  and  upland 
pastures  of  the  Promised  Land,  where  the  tents  of  the 
patriarchs  rose  amidst  their  flocks ;  from  the  prisons  and 
palaces  of  Egypt,  we  catch  no  sound  of  sacred  song.  So 
far  the  stream  flows  for  us  underground. 

The  first  recorded  hymn  in  the  Bible  is  the  utterance  of 
the  national  thanksgiving  of  Israel  by  the  Red  Sea.  When 
the  Church  becomes  visible,  her  voice  becomes  audible. 
The  waves  flowed  back  to  their  ancient  tide-marks,  the 
pa/thway  through  the  sea  was  hidden  for  ever,  and,  with  it, 
the  hosts  of  the  enemies  of  God  and  of  Israel.     The  way 


THE  SONG  OF  MOSES.  U 

of  escape  had  become  the  wall  of  demarcation,  and  looking 
back  on  that  sea,  with  all  its  buried  secrets,  above  its 
ripple  and  its  roar  the  song  burst  from  the  lips  of  Moses 
and  the  children  of  Israel. 

It  was  a  type  of  all  the  psalms  which  have  been  sung 
on  earth  since.  It  was  a  song  of  victory.  It  was  a  song 
of  redemption.  It  was  "  sung  to  the  Lord."  The  silence 
of  the  dead  was  beneath  that  sea,  the  silence  of  the  desert 
was  around  it,  and  there  first  it  is  written  that  the  Song 
of  Redemption  pierced  through  the  long  wail  of  the  Fall. 
There  the  first  notes  of  that  great  chant  of  victory  were 
chanted  which  echo  along  the  crystal  sea,  far,  far  beyond 
our  hearing,  into  the  depths  of  eternity. 

That  song  has  never  ceased  since  on  this  earth.  One 
dying  voice  has  carried  on  its  accents  to  another.  From 
time  to  time  it  bursts  on  our  ears  in  a  chorus  of  triumph ; 
at  times,  even  Elijah  can  hear  no  voice  but  his  own. 
But  God  has  heard  it  ceaselessly,  we  may  not  doubt;  and 
while  some  tones,  loud  and  musical  in  man's  ears,  have 
failed  to  pierce  beyond  the  atmosphere  of  earth,  countless 
.melodies,  inaudible  to  us,  have  reached  His  ear,  and  been 
welcomed  by  His  smile. 

Among  the  many  books  which  God  has  caused  to  be 
written  for  us  to  make  up  His  One  Book, — family  records, 
royal  chronicles,  histories  of  the  past  and  future,  proverb 
and  prophecy, — we  have  one  book  which  speaks  not  so 
much  to  man  from  God  as  to  God  for  man.  In  the  Book 
of  P.saims  the  third  person  of  the  historical  narratives, 
the  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord"  of  the  law  and  the  prophets, 
is  exchanged  for  the  supplicating  or  rejoicing  "O  Lord, 
my  God,"  "  Unto  Thee,  O  Lord,  will  I  sing."     Beginning 


O  HYMNS  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

often  in  the  tumultuous  depths,  these  psalms  soar  into 
the  calm  light  of  heaven.  An  inspired  liturgy  for  all 
time,  and  the  prophetic  utterance  of  a  sorrow  which  knew 
no  equal,  they  are  yet  the  natural  expression  of  the 
struggles  and  hopes,  the  repentings  and  thanksgivings  of 
the  human  hearts  who  first  spoke  them.  These  also  are 
part  of  that  one  wondrous  hymn  of  redeemed  man  to  God. 
It  is  one  warfare,  and,  therefore,  one  battle-song  suits  all 
alike.  Like  the  other  true  hymns  of  the  Church  militant, 
David's  psalms  were  written  in  no  soft  literary  retire- 
ment, but  amidst  the  struggles  of  a  most  eventful  and 
active  life.  The  battle-songs  of  the  Church  are  written 
on  the  battle-field  ;  her  poets  are  singers  because  they  are 
believers. 

"When  David  fled  from  Absalom  his  son,  his  heart 
lifted  itself  up  to  "the  Lord,  his  shield;"  when  Sliimei 
cursed  him,  he  sang  praises  to  the  name  of  the  Lord  most 
high ;  looking  up  to  the  rocks  and  the  wild  hill-fortresses 
among  which  he  had  taken  refuge  from  Saul,  he  called  on 
"  the  Lord,  his  fortress  and  his  high  tower;"  from  the  flocks 
he  led  by  green  pastures  and  still  waters,  in  his  peaceful 
youth,  his  heart  turned  to  "  the  Lord,  his  shepherd  ;"  awak- 
ing in  agony  from  his  great  sin,  he  uttered  those  self- 
despairing,  yet  most  trustful  words,  on  which  the  sighs  ci 
repenting  sinners  have  taken  wing  to  God  during  three 
thousand  years. 

It  cannot  be  without  purpose  that  more  is  revealed  to 
us  of  the  life  of  the  sweet  Singer  of  Israel  than  of  any 
other  man.  Otherwise,  might  we  not  have  thought  the  song 
of  praise  is  only  for  the  comparatively  sinless;  that  sighs, 
not  songs,  become  the  penitent,  however  freely  the  "  much" 


THE  SONG  OF  SONGS.  7 

is  forgiven  ?  and  thus  many  a  precious  box  of  costly  per- 
fume might  have  been  held  back  in  shame,  and  we  might 
have  missed  the  lesson  that  the  deepest  music  of  the 
Church  is  mingled  with  her  tears. 

David  did  indeed  appoint  an  "  order  of  singers,"  and 
he  set  them,  we  are  told  by  Nehemiah,  over  the  business 
of  the  house  of  God.  And,  no  doubt,  the  Lord  of  the 
temple  has  also  His  own  "  order,"  especially  endowed  and 
trained  for  this  work,  to  whom,  as  the  king  to  those 
singers  of  the  old  temple,  He  appoints  a  certain  portion 
"  due  every  day."  Yet  in  that  new  temple,  which  is 
rising  silently  day  by  day,  all  the  stones  are  musical  when 
struck  by  the  right  hand ;  every  voice  has  its  own  especial 
psalm  for  its  own  especial  joy;  and  the  richest  songs  have 
sometimes  been  sung  by  those  who  sang  but  one,  and 
whose  names  are  lost  to  us  for  ever. 

From  time  to  time,  throughout  the  Old  Testament,  we 
catch  fresh  notes  of  the  song.  There  is  the  mystical  Song 
of  Songs,  reaching,  in  its  full  meaning,  to  the  great  mar- 
riage-day, when  the  Voice  which  can  be  heard  in  the 
grave  shall  say,  "  Arise,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come 
away;  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone,  find 
the  time  of  the  singing  is  come."  There  is  the  chant  of 
Deborah  the  prophetess,  and  the  hymn  of  Hannah,  borne 
along  through  her  own  individual  joy  to  the  great  undying 
source  of  joy,  the  Child  born  to  redeem.  There  is  the 
song  of  Jehoshaphat  and  his  army,  the  chant  of  victory 
sung  in  faith  before  the  battle,  and  itself  doing  battle,  in 
that  the  Lord  fought  for  those  who  trusted  Him,  and 
they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  divide  the  spoil  and  return 
to  Jerusalem,  with  psalteries  and  harps  and  trumpets,  into 


8  HYMNS  OF  THE  BIDLTC. 

the  house  of  the  Lord.  There  is  the  song  of  Hezekiah, 
when  he  recovered  from  his  sickness,  and  the  psalm  of 
Jonah,  from  the  depths  of  the  sea.  There  was  a  song  by 
the  waters  of  Babylon,  though  not  for  the  ear  of  the 
oppressor.  There  was  the  song  of  liberated  Israel,  at  the 
dedication  of  the  wall  of  the  Holy  City,  when  "  the  singers 
sang  loud,  and  they  all  rejoiced:  for  God  had  made  them 
rejoice  with  great  joy:  the  wives  also  and  the  children 
rejoiced:  so  that  the  joy  of  Jerusalem  was  heard  afar  off." 
There  were  new  songs  in  the  prophets  for  the  new  joy 
which  was  to  descend  on  earth,  until  at  last  the  joy  came, 
and  the  songs  of  the  angels  broke  on  the  ears  of  the  shep- 
herds keeping  watch  over  their  flocks  by  night. 

Even  on  earth  the  morning  awakes  with  music.  Not 
a  day  is  born  but  finds  some  creature  ready  to  welcome 
it  with  a  song — some  echo  of  that  birth-day  hymn  which 
the  morning  stars  sang  together  when  all'  the  sons  of 
God  shouted  for  joy.  No  wonder,  then,  that  a  burst  of 
inspired  song  greets  that  Dayspring  from  on  high.  The 
theme,  not  creation,  but  the  Son,  "  the  Child  Jesus, 
Christ  the  Lord!"  The  singers;  from  heaven  a  multi- 
tude of  the  heavenly  host,  and  on  earth  the  blessed 
virgin-mother,  and  two  old  men.  Humble  voices,  heard 
by  few  then,  yet  pouring  out  their  full  hearts  to  God, 
and  so  forming  a  new  channel  of  praise,  never  since  left 
dry. 

The  first  recorded  Jewish  hymn  was  chanted  by  the 
great  lawgiver,  with  a  nation  for  his  chorus.  The  first 
Christian  hymn  was  sung  by  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus, 
with  no  audience,  as  far  as  we  know,  but  one  other  faith- 
ful woman.     The  contrast,   doubtless,  has  its  meaning. 


THREE  FIRST  CHRISTIAN  HYMNS.  9 

The  heart  of  Mary,  like  a  sweet  flower  with  its  cup 
turned  up  to  the  morning  sky,  in  its  lowliness  drank  in 
the  light  and  dew  of  heaven,  and  sent  them  back  in 
fragrance;  full  of  God,  and  therefore  full  of  joy.  And 
yet  her  hymn  is  no  angelic  song,  no  thanksgiving  of  an 
unfallen  spirit  who  looks  on  adoring  at  the  great  miracle 
of  Divine  love.  That  human  tone,  which  gives  its  deepest 
music  to  the  new  song  of  heaven,  is  not  wanting  in 
Mary's.  She  can  say,  "  My  Saviour,"  that  she  also  may 
sing  hereafter,  "  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us 
by  Thy  blood!"  The  Magnificat  of  the  blessed  Virgin  is 
but  another  strain  in  the  great  Song  of  Redemption. 

Then  Zacharias,  when  the  seal  is  taken  off  his  lips, 
and  his  mouth  is  opened  to  praise  God,  at  once  his 
heart  is  borne  away  beyond  his  own  special  blessing,  on 
the  great  tide  of  joy,  which  is  the  common  element  of 
all  the  redeemed,  and  the  natal  hymn  of  the  Baptist  soars 
away  into  a  Christmas  carol.  For  a  moment  his  song 
alights  on  the  peculiar  gladness  whicli  had  visited  his 
house,  the  child  of  his  old  age,  who  was  to  be  the  pro- 
phet of  the  Highest;  but  then  again  it  soars  upward,  until 
it  is  lost  in  the  early  beams  of  the  Dayspring  from  on 
high. 

One  other  hymn  completes  that  first  cluster;  and  this, 
unlike  the  other  two,  was  uttered  in  the  temple.  It 
must  have  been  long  indeed  since  any  fire  from  heaven 
had  touched  the  mercenary  sacrifices  there,  or  any  gusli  of 
fresh  inspiration  had  pierced  the  icy  routine  of  the 
services.  At  length,  however,  the  heavens,  whicli  had 
seemed  so  impenetrable,  opened,  and  before  the  vail  was 
rent,  and  they  melted  away  for  ever,  service  and  sacrifice 


10  HYMNS  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

slione  with  a  new  and  Divine  radiance  from  the  Sun 
which  was  rising  behind  them. 

Once  more  the  music  of  inspired  song  was  heard  in  the 
temple;  not  from  the  choir  of  David's  priestly  singers, 
but  from  the  lips  of  an  old  man,  as  he  held  the  infant 
Saviour  in  his  arms.  Yet,  in  the  few  simple  words  with 
which  Simeon  welcomed  the  joy  he  had  waited  for  so 
long,  he  rose  to  a  height  at  which  even  Pentecostal  gifts 
did  not  always  sustain  apostles.  The  old  man's  vision 
reached  to  the  universal  promise,  and  he  saw  in  Jesus,  not 
only  the  Glory  of  Israel,  but  the  Light  to  lighten  the 
Gentiles.  With  such  a  vision  well  might  he  depart  in 
peace ! 

Thus  the  first  triad  of  Christian  hymns,  the  three 
matin-songs  of  Christianity,  were  completed.  Ere  another 
was  added  to  the  sacred  list,  the  great  victory  which  had 
been  thus  sung  had  to  be  won,  not  with  songs,  but  with 
strong  crying,  and  tears,  and  unutterable  anguish.  To 
human  ears  the  completion  of  the  great  victory  was  an- 
nounced, not  with  shouts  of  triumph  and  songs  of  angelic 
hosts,  but  by  one  dying  human  voice,  speaking  in  dark- 
ness from  the  cross. 

"  When  Jesus  therefore  had  received  the  vinegar,  lie 
said,  It  is  finished :  and  he  bowed  his  head,  and  gave  up 
the  ghost." 

Yet  are  those  dying  words  the  fountain-head  of  every 
hymn  of  joy  and  triumph  which  men  have  ever  sung 
since  Eden  was  closed,  or  ever  will  sing,  throughout 
eternity. 

The  Bible  records  the  words  of  but  one  other  hymn; 
for  a  hymn  it  was,  whether  said  or  sung. 


FIRST  HYMN  AFTER  PENTECOST.  11 

The  Son  of  God  had  burst  the  bands  of  the  grave,  and 
had  ascended  to  be  where  He  is  now,  at  the  right  hand 
of  God,  and,  as  He  promised,  the  Comforter  had  come, 
and,  knit  together  in  living  unity  by  Him,  the  Church 
had  appeared  a  living  temple  of  God  in  the  world!  Thus 
the  only  hymn  recorded  in  the  Acts  is  not,  like  those 
in  the  Gospels,  sung  by  solitary  voices.  It  is  a  choral 
burst  of  praise ;  and,  like  so  many  since,  it  is  struck  from 
the  heart  of  the  Church  by  the  hand  of  persecution.  The 
first  persecution  of  the  Church  gave  birth  to  her  first 
hymn.  Peter  and  John  came  back  from  their  night  in 
prison  to  the  band  of  believers;  and  they  lifted  up  their 
voices  to  God  with  one  accord,  and  the  place  where  they 
met  was  shaken  by  an  earthquake. 

After  that  we  have  no  record  of  any  hymn,  (unless  the 
thirteenth  chapter  of  first  Corinthians,  rising  sublime  and 
detached,  as  it  does,  from  the  general  level  of  the  epistle, 
may  be  called  one,)  until  the  songs  of  heaven  fall  on  our 
hearts  from  the  heights  of  the  Apocalyptic  vision.  Then 
from  within  the  gates  of  pearl,  from  the  city  which  is 
also  a  paradise,  from  beside  the  fountain  of  life,  and  from 
before  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  we  catch  the 
tones  of  the  new  song,  and  find  it  the  ever  new  Song  of 
Redemption,  the  psalm  of  the  new  creation  ;  the  song 
which  Moses  sang,  and  David,  Hannah,  and  Mary  the 
mother  of  Jesus,  and  the  early  Church,  when  she  first 
tasted  the  bitter  cup  of  her  Lord  ;  the  song  which  every 
sinner  that  repenteth  sings,  and  the  angels  echo,  which 
we  are  singing,  and  still  learning  now,  and  which  will  be 
new  in  its  inexhaustible  depths  of  joy  for  ever  and  ever. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE   "  TERSANCTUS,"    THE    "  GLORIA  IN  EXCELSIS," 
AND  THE   "TE  DEUM." 

Three  Hymns  and  three  Creeds  have  come  do^vn  to  us 
from  early  times,  and  have  been  incorporated  into  our 
Liturgy,  besides  the  hymn  preserved  in  our  Ordination 
Services.  They  have  descended  to  us  pure  and  distinct, 
through  the  gradually  thickening  corruptions  of  many 
centuries.  Fragments  of  the  language  of  Heaven,  often 
preserved  by  those  who  knew  not  the  interpretation, 
they  must,  through  those  dark  and  confused  ages,  have 
formed  channels  of  communication  with  God  for  many 
a  perplexed  but  believing  heart. 

In  the  preservation  of  the  Holy  Scrip!  ures  themselves, 
through  similar  perils,  we  recognise,  with  adoration,  the 
controlling  hand  of  God;  and  we  may  surely  also  attri- 
bute it  to  His  merciful  providence,  that  through  those 
centuries,  when  so  many  would  receive  no  spiritual  food, 
except  through  the  external  Church,  and  the  Church  so 
often  gave  the  stone,  if  not  the  serpent,  to  her  children, 
instead  of  bread,  anything  so  pure  and  life-giving  should 
have  been  enshrined  in  her  daily  Offices,  as  the  Creeds  of 
the  Apostles,  of  Nice,  and  of  Athanasius,  the  two  Hymns 
now  in  our  Communion  Service,  and  the  "  Te  Deum." 


AXD  THE    "  TE  DEUM. 


13 


The  preservation  of  the  Creeds  is,  however,  scarcely 
so  remarkable  as  that  of  the  Hymns.  That  the  Creeds 
should  ever  have  become  what  they  are,  is  indeed  more 
wonderful  than  that  once  formed  they  should  have  re- 
mained intact. 

That  out  of  the  fierce  word-battles  of  the  Oriental 
Churches,  when  eternal  truths  were  made  the  subject  ot 
courtly  intrigue  and  popular  tumult,  and  the  populace 
of  Greek  and  Syrian  cities  we  e  ready  to  shed  each  other's 
blood  on  account  of  the  relations  of  the  Persons  in  the 
Trinity  to  one  another,  meanwhile  concerning  themselves 
very  little  about  their  own  relations  to  God;  when  an 
abstract  Trinity  in  Unity  was  in  danger  of  being  wor- 
shipped instead  of  the  living  and  redeeming  God;  that 
from  such  passionate  and  godless  controversies  those  sim- 
ple and  living  Creeds  should  have  been  evolved,  is  indeed 
wonderful.  And  since  the  formation  of  the  Creeds  was 
no  miraculous  inspiration,  the  fact  may  surely  teach  us  a 
comforting  lesson  in  ecclesiastical  history.  Living  words 
cannot  proceed  from  lifeless  souls;  and  the  ages  which 
compacted  the  Creeds  must  surely,  beneath  that  tumult 
of  noisy  controversies  and  strife  "  who  should  be  greatest," 
whose  echoes,  as  they  reach  us,  we  are  apt  to  call  church 
history,  have  borne  to  heaven  many  a  cry  of  true  prayer, 
and  many  a  soft  chorus  of  thanksgiving.  As  St  Augus- 
tine said,""  "  AVe  look  on  the  surface  and  see  only  the 
Lcum;  beneath  we  should  find  the  oil/' 

Thus  the  Creeds  are  witnesses  not  only  for  the  truth 
they    utter,    but   for   the    Church   which     uttered   them. 
Once  formed,   however,  the  great  difficulty  as  regarded 
*  Neander's  Church  History. 


14      THE  "  TERSANCTUS/1    THE    "  GLOIIIA  IN  EXCKLSLS," 

them  was  over.  They  were  sealed  with  all  the  authority 
of  Church  and  State;  they  were  systematic  documents 
with  sharply  defined  edges;  they  were  fenced  in  with 
anathemas,  and  the  anathemas  were  fortified  with  civil 
penalties.  The  subtle  and  tumultuous,  yet  servile  populace, 
who  entered  into  doctrinal  controversies  with  the  eager- 
ness with  which  their  forefathers  had  contended  for  poli- 
tical rights,  might  have  made  the  abstraction  of  a  particle 
the  signal  for  a  riot.  And  when  that  acute  and  excitable 
race  had  been  crushed  under  the  strong  fanaticism  of  Mo- 
hammedan armies,  or  silenced  beneath  the  dead  pressure 
of  Mohammedan  fatalism  and  tyranny ;  when  church  his- 
tory passed  over  to  the  West  and  to  another  range  of  con- 
troversies, the  two  earlier  Creeds  had  already  the  sacred 
halo  of  antiquity  on  them ;  the  crystals  were  set,  and  no 
foreign  element  could  blend  with  them  to  alter  their  form. 

With  the  Hymns  it  might  have  been  otherwise.  The 
strictest  research  can,  it  seems,  only  ascertain  their  exist- 
ence in  the  earliest  records,  but  cannot  trace  their  be- 
ginning;. That  before  such  a  date  the  "  Te  Deum"  Can- 
not  be  found,  and  that  in  the  earliest  known  Liturgies 
the  "Thrice  Holy"  can  be  found,  appears  nearly  all  that 
can  be  discovered.  Whether  they  sprang  first  to  light 
in  a  burst  of  choral  song,  like  that  inspired  hymn  in  the 
Acts;  or  were  bestowed  on  the  Church  through  the  hea- 
venly meditations  of  one  solitary  believer;  or  gradually, 
like  a  river,  by  its  tributary  streams,  rose  to  what  they 
are,  we  can  perhaps  never  know. 

We  all  know  the  tradition,  that  the  "  Te  Deum"  gushed 
forth  in  sudden  inspiration  from  the  lips  of  Ambrose,  as 
he  baptized  Augustine ;  or  (as  it  exists  in  another  form) 


AND  THE    "  TE  DEUM."  15 

that  St  Ambrose  and  St  Augustine,  touched  at  the  same 
moment  by  the  same  sacred  fire,  sang  it  together  in  re- 
sponses. But  beautiful  as  this  legend  is,  and  of  early  ori- 
gin, those  who  have  searched  into  the  subject  most  deeply 
seem  to  think  it  must  be  classed  among  other  beautiful 
typical  stories  of  the  heroic  ages  of  Christendom.  There 
is,  however,  another  theory  of  the  origin  of  the  "  Te  Deuni" 
(to  which  Daniel  seems  to  lean),  more  beautiful  and  ap- 
propriate than  even  this  old  legend.  It  is  believed  by 
many  to  have  sprung  from  an  earlier  Oriental  morning 
hymn,  perhaps  to  have  grown  out  of  fragments  of  many 
such  hymns.  Gradually,  therefore,  if  this  be  true,  it 
may  have  flowed  on  from  age  to  age,  gathering  fresh 
tides  of  truth  and  melody,  till,  as  you  trace  back  the  sa- 
cred stream  to  its  source,  your  exploring  feet  are  checked 
among  the  snowy  mountains  of  the  distant  past,  and, 
listening  through  the  mists  and  silence,  you  seem  to  hear 
far  off  the  music  with  which  it  first  wells  into  light, 
where  the  few  persecuted  Christians  of  Pliny's  days  meet 
before  dawn  to  sing  their  hymn  of  praise  to  Christ  as 
God. 

How  these  three  Hymns  grew  to  what  they  are,  remains 
to  us  as  great  a  mystery  as  why  their  growth  stopped 
where  it  did.  They  lay  for  centuries  entombed  in  a  dead 
language,  among  all  kinds  of  errors  and  idolatries  ;  no 
amithema  guarded  them  either  at  their  entrance  or  their 
close.  Be.-ide  them  sprang  up  a  rank  growth  of  prayers 
to  dead  men,  and  lifeless  wood,  and  symbolic  bread  ; 
passionate  appeals  to  all  saints,  and  fervent  pleadings  for 
all  souls  in  purgatory.  The  voices  which  chanted  them, 
chanted    more  frequently   Aves    and  Litanies  to   Mary, 


1G       THE  "  TERSANCTUS,"  THE    "GLORIA  TN  EXCELSIS," 

Queen  of  Heaven;  yet  there  they  stand  for  us,  as  pure 
as  if  none  had  ever  sung,  or  had  the  keeping  of  them, 
save  angels  and  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect. 
Like  the  sacred  body  of  Him  they  sang,  they  lay  in  the 
tomb,  but  did  not  see  corruption.  And  now  that,  with 
much  conflict,  and  labour,  and  suffering,  the  mass  of  evil 
around  them  has  been  cleared  off,  and  the  great  stone  of 
the  dead  language  has  been  rolled  away,  they  come  forth 
to  us  fresh  as  with  the  eternal  youth  of  the  angels  who 
guarded  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  with  a  countenance  like 
lightning,  and  raiment  white  as  snow,  saying  to  us,  "  Fear 
not  ye.  It  is  not  possible  that  Christ  or  His  truth  should 
be  h  olden  by  any  bands  of  death  :  the  Lord  is  risen 
indeed." 

In  each  of  these  three  Hymns  how  exulting  and  tri- 
umphant the  strain  is !  They  are  hymns  of  praise  of  the 
noblest  kind :  they  are  occupied,  not  with  our  feelings 
about  the  object  of  adoration,  but  with  the  object  Him- 
self. Not  a  tone  of  sorrow  mingles  with  them;  the  joy 
of  Redemption  altogether  overwhelms  the  lamentation  of 
the  Fall ;  mortality  is  swallowed  up  of  life. 

And  yet  the  two  first,  at  least,  were  sung  before  Chris- 
tianity had  achieved  any  visible  triumph;  when  it  was 
still  a  religio  illicita,  existing  by  precarious  sufferance; 
when  every  public  act  of  Christian  worship  was  liable  to 
end  in  martyrdom,  and  every  song  of  praise  might  be 
finished  among  the  multitude  above,  who  rejoice  that  theyr 
have  been  counted  worthy  to  suffer  shame  for  the  name 
of  Jesus.  Those  who  joined  in  it  knew  not  how  soon 
their  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,"  might  be  resumed,  after  a  brief 
agony,  among  "  angels  and  archangels,  and  all  the  com- 


AND  THE    "TEDEUM."  17 

pany  of  heaven, "  or  whether  their  "  Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest"  might  not  be  chanted  next  among  the  angelic  band 
who  first  struck  its  chords  of  joy.  Was  it  not  that  very 
possibility  which  gave  the  peculiar  thrill  to  the  words) 

"  It  is  very  meet,  right,  and  our  bounden  duty,  that 
we  should  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  give  thanks  unto 
Thee,  Holy  Father,  Almighty,  Everlasting  God.  There- 
fore with  angels  and  archangels,  and  all  the  company  of 
heaven,  we  laud  and  magnify  Thy  glorious  Name;  ever- 
more praising  Thee,  and  saying,  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord 
God  of  hosts,  heaven  and  earth  are  full  of  Thy  glory : 
glory  be  to  Thee,  0  Lord  Most  High." 

The  duty  of  joy  and  praise,  the  sanctity  of  all  places 
and  the  fitness  of  all  times  for  worship  !  Do  we  not  feel 
in  this  glorious  burst  of  thanksgiving  the  irrepressible 
joy  of  redeemed  creatures  set  free  from  all  bondage  ; 
sinful  yet  forgiven,  and  fighting  with  God  against  sin; 
children,  yet  children  of  God,  coming  before  their 
Father  with  the  song  He  loves  to  hear;  little  indeed,  and 
as  nothing  among  the  countless  hosts  of  heavenly  wor- 
shippers, yet  still  actually  amongst  them,  and  no  strangers 
tli ere,  because,  in  God's  household,  whilst  the  greatest 
are  as  dust  before  His  majesty,  the  least  shine  as  the  sun 
in  His  love? 

It  is  as  if  the  veil  were  for  a  moment  withdrawn,  and 
the  whole  family  in  earth  and  heaven  were  united  in  one 
song.  Myriads  who  sang  it  once  on  earth  have  passed 
through  the  veil  one  by  one,  and  have  taken  their  places 
in  the  other  choir;  and  soon  the  veil  must  be  visibly 
rent,  and  the  two  choirs  made  one. 

The  second  Hymn  after  the  Communion,  like  the  first^ 


18      THE  "  TERSANCTUS,"  THE    "  GLORIA  IN  EXCELSIS," 

soars  away  at  once  from  self  to  God,  and  rests  not  on  our 
joy  in  God,  but  on  God  who  is  our  joy,  giving  thanks  to 
the  Father  for  His  great  glory,  and  to  the  Son  for  His  re- 
deeming love.  Like  the  "Te  Deum,"  it  is  chiefly  addressed 
to  Christ.  But  its  accents  are  to  accompany  us  back  into 
the  outer  world;  and  the  hymn,  which  began,  as  it  were, 
among  the  angels,  ends  with  a  Miserere  such  as  befits 
those  yet  in  the  body  of  death,  well  as  it  befitted  those 
many  martyrs  of  early  times  who,  we  are  told,  sang  this 
hymn  on  their  way  to  martyrdom. 

Happy  for  us  if  the  music  of  those  words  sings  on  in 
our  hearts  through  the  temptations  and  toils  of  the  fol- 
lowing days,  and  so  from  hour  to  hour  we  make  our  work 
keep  time  to  that  heavenly  melody! 

"  Glory  to  God  on  high,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  wTill 
towards  men.  We  praise  Thee,  we  bless  Thee,  we  glorify 
Thee,  wre  give  thanks  to  Thee  for  Thy  great  glory,  O  Lord 
God,  heavenly  King,  God  the  Father  Almighty.  O 
Lord,  the  onty-begotten  Son  Jesu  Christ;  0  Lord  God, 
Lamb  of  God,  Son  of  the  Father,  that  takest  away  the 
sins  of  the  world,  have  mercy  on  us.  Thou  that  takest 
away  the  sins  of  the  world,  have  mercy  on  us.  Thou 
that  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  receive  our  prayer. 
Thou  that  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Father, 
have  mercy  on  us. 

"For  Thou  only  art  holy;  Thou  only  art  the  Lord; 
Thou  only,  O  Christ,  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  art  most  high 
in  the  glory  of  God  the  Father." 

Happy  for  us  when  the  Gloria  and  the  Miserere  are 
ever  thus  intertwined ! 

The  "  Te  Deum"  completes  and  crowns  this  second  triad 


AXD  THE    "  TE  DEUM."  19 

of  Christian  hymns.  It  is  at  once  a  hymn,  a  creed,  and 
a  prayer ;  or  rather,  it  is  a  creed  taking  wing  and  soaring 
heavenward;  it  is  faith  seized  with  a  sudden  joy  as  she 
counts  her  treasures,  and  laying  them  at  the  feet  of  Jesus 
in  a  song;  it  is  the  incense  of  prayer,  rising  so  near  the 
rainbow  round  the  throne  as  to  catch  its  light  and  be- 
come radiant  a«*  well  as  fragrant,  a  cloud  of  incense  illu- 
mined into  a  cloud  of  glory.  It  is  a  shrine  round  which 
the  Church  has  hung  her  joys  for  centuries,  and  in  which 
each  of  us  has  garnered  up  one  sacred  memory  after 
another.  Year  by  year  its  meaning  has  been  unfolded  to 
us.  One  verse  has  been  a  fountain  of  comfort  opened  to 
us  in  some  desert  place;  others  have  been  unveiled  to  us 
in  the  light  of  a  fresh  joy  or  the  darkness  of  a  fresh 
sorrow;  and  as  our  horizon  widens,  it  will  expand  ever 
above  and  beyond,  because,  and  only  because,  it  is  full  of 
Him  whose  fulness  filleth  all  in  all. 

Its  meaning  becomes  clearer  if  we  regard  it  as  pecu- 
liarly a  hymn  to  Christ,  which  many  believe  it  originally 
to  have  been  :  in  which  case,  the  doxology  to  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Spirit*  may  have  been  inserted,  in  a  modified 
form,  from  its  usual  place  at  the  end  of  the  hymn. 
Thus,  the  first  versicle,  from  a  mere  general  acknow- 
ledgment that  God  is  the  Lord,  becomes  a  confession 
that  Jesus,  who,  to  deliver  us,  did  not  abhor  the 
Virgin's  womb,  who  overcame  for  us  the  sharpness  of 
death,  and  redeemed  us  with  His  precious  blood,  is  He 
whose  majesty  fills  earth  and  heaven;  adored  by  angels, 

*  Fatrern  immense  majestatis; 
Ytnerandum  tuuiu  verum,  et  unicum  Filium; 
Sanctum  quoque  Paraclitum  Spiritum. 


20       THE   "  TERSANCTUS,"  THE    "  GLORIA  IN  EXCELSIS," 

apostles,  prophets,  martyrs;  King  of  Glory,  and  ever- 
lasting Son  of  the  Father ;  God  over  all,  blessed  for 
ever. 

The  original  Latin  may  be  given,  with  the  suggestion 
whether  the  expression  "Martyrum  candiclatus  exercitns," 
may  not  refer  to  the  white  robes  made  white  in  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb;  and  whether  the  words  translated,  "When 
Thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,"  do  not  in 
the  original  indicate  more  clearly  the  truth  that  our  Lord 
did  not  merely  overcome  the  pangs  of  death  as  martyrs 
have  done,  but  plucked  out  its  sting ;  in  other  words, 
that  He  overcame  death  for  lis. 

Te  Deum  laudamus :  Te  Dominum  confitemur. 
Te  aoternum  Patrem*  omnis  terra  veneratur. 
Tibi  omnes  angeli,  tibi  ccoli  et  universse  potestates, 
Tibi  cherubim  et  seraphim,  incessabili  voce  proclamant: 
Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Dominus  Deus  Sabaoth ; 
Pleni  sunt  cooli  et  terra  maj estate  glorise  tuss. 
Te  gloriosus  apostolorum  chorus; 
Te  prophetarum  laudabilis  numerus; 
Te  martyrum  candidatus  laudat  exercitus. 
Te  per  orbem  terrarum,  sancta  confibetur  ecclesia, 
Patrera  immensa)  majestatis; 
Venerandum  tuum  verum,  et  unicum  Filium  *, 
Sanctum  quoque  Paraclitum  Spiritum. 
Tu  Eex  glorise,  Christe: 
Tu  Patris  sempiternus  es  Filius. 

Tu  ad  liberandum  suscepturus  hominem,  non  horruisti 
virginis  uterum; 

*  May  not  this  refer  to  the  prophecy  in  Isaiah,  "This  is  the  name 
whereby  he  shall  be  called,  Almighty  God,  Everlasting  Father,  Prince 
of  Peace"? 


AND  THE    "  TE  DEUM."  21 

Tu,  devicto  mortis  aculeo,  aperuisti   credentibus  regna 

ccelorum. 
Tu  ad  dexteram  Dei  sedes  in  gloria  Patris. 
Judex  crederis  esse  venturus  : 
Te,  ergo  quoesumus,  famulis  tuis  subveni,  quos  pretioso 

sanguine  redemisti. 
sterna  fac  cum  Sanctis  tuis  in  gloria  numerari. 
Salvum  fac  populum  tuum,  Domine :  et  benedic  haereditati 

tua3. 
Et  rege  eos,  et  extolle  illos  usque  in  seternum. 
Per  singulos  dies  benedicimus  te. 
Et  laudamus  nomen  tuum  in  saeculum:  et  in  saeculum 

sseculi. 
Dignare,  Domine,  die  isto  sine  peccato  nos  custodire. 
Miserere  nostri  Domine:  miserere  nostri. 
Fiat  misericordia  tua,  Domine,  super  nos,  quemadmodum 

speravimus  in  te. 
In  te  Domine  speravi :  non  confundar  in  seternum. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

It  may  be  well  to  dwell  on  the  anonymous  early  liymns 
before  we  enter  on  the  compositions  of  any  known  author, 
because  where  the  author  is  not  ascertained  (and  the 
date  thus  fixed),  whilst  the  style  is  simple  and  primitive, 
the  earliest  manuscript  discovered  may  be  but  a  copy  of 
earlier  writings,  and  a  record  of  some  far  earlier  unwritten 
song.  For  instance,  the  "  Gloria  in  Excelsis,"  sometimes 
called  a  Morning  Hymn,  or  the  "Hymnus  Angelicus," 
preserved  in  our  Communion  Service,  is  possibly  or  pro- 
bably more  ancient  than  anything  Clement  of  Alexandria, 
the  earliest  known  hymn-writer,  ever  wrote.  Its  sublime 
simplicity  would  lead  one  to  conclude  it  must  be  so,  were 
Christianity  merely  an  historical- religion.  As  it  is,  the 
question  of  comparative  chronology  seems  of  little  import- 
ance. The  original  authentic  documents  of  our  faith  are 
in  our  hands,  and  besides  these  we  can  acknowledge  no 
standard  of  doctrine ;  and  the  Fountain  of  our  life  is 
equally  near  to  every  age.  Whether,  therefore,  the 
greater  purity  of  many  of  these  anonymous  hymns  arises 
from  their  greater  antiquity,  or  from  a  fresh  approach  to 
that  ever-present  Fountain  in  an  age  when  many  had 
recourse  to  polluted  waters  and  broken  cisterns,  is  a  pro- 
blem we  may  contentedly  leave  unsolved.     In  either  case, 


"ilYJIXUS  ANGELICU3.M  23 

they  bear  witness  to  a  living  communion  of  some  human 
hearts  with  God,  and  are  as  such  most  precious,  whether 
we  regard  them  as  carrying  up  the  links  of  our  faith  to 
the  first  century,  or  as  bringing  clown  the  faith  and  wor- 
ship of  the  apostolic  age  to  the  fourth  century. 

The  first  of  these  anonymous  hymns  which  may  be  given 
here  are  those  called  in  Daniel's  "Thesaurus,"  Morning 
and  Evening  Hymn;  the  Morning  Hymn  being  the 
well-known  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest." 

MORNING  HYMN. 

Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 

And  on  earth  peace, 

Good  will  towards  men. 

We  praise  Thee, 

We  bless  Thee, 

We  glorify  Thee, 

We  give  thanks  to  Thee, 

For  Thy  great  glory, 

0  Lord,  heavenly  King, 

God  the  Father  Almighty. 

0  Lord,  the  only  begotten  Son, 

Jesu  Christ, 

And  the  Holy  Ghost.* 

O  Lord  God/ 

Lamb  of  God, 

Son  of  the  Father, 

Thou  who  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world, 

.Receive  our  prayer. 

Thou  who  sitte.st  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father, 

Have  mercy  on  us. 

*  It  will  be  observed  that  there  are  a  few  slight  variations  between 
this  version  of  the  hymn,  which  is  taken  from  the  Greek,  in  Daniel's 
"  Thesaurus,"  and  that  in  the  Prayer-book, 


24  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

For  Thou  only  art  holy, 

Thou  only  art  the  Lord, 

O  Jesu  Christ, 

To  the  glory  of  God  the  Father.     Amen. 

EVENING  HYMN. 

Joyful  light  of  holy  glory, 

Of  the  immortal  Heavenly  Father, 

Holy,  blessed 

Jesu  Christ, 

We,  coming  at  the  setting  of  the  sun, 

Beholding  the  evening  light, 

Praise  Father  and  Son 

And  Holy  Spirit,  God. 

Thee  it  is  meet 

At  all  hours  to  praise 

With  sacred  voices,  Son  of  God, 

Thou  who  givest  life ; 

Therefore  the  world  glorifies  Thee. 

In  this  last  hymn  there  is  no  fancy,  no  ecstasy  of  emo- 
tion. The  poetry  consists  in  the  faith,  in  the  vision  of 
the  invisible.  The  praise  is  not  so  much  the  utterance  of 
man's  feelings  as  of  God's  name.  The  images  are  so 
simple  as  to  be  scarcely  images  at  all,  but  only  the  clearest 
expression  of  truth.  And  yet  what  sweeter  or  Bublimer 
evening  thoughts  could  any  desire  to  rest  the  heart  upon! 

The  sun  is  setting;  the  brief  twilight  of  Egypt,  Syria, 
or  Greece,  making  scarcely  any  interval  between  day  and 
night,  is  beginning.  The  glow  of  the  golden  southern 
day  is  gone ;  in  another  minute  the  glorious  southern  sun 
lias  sunk  suddenly  in  his  majesty  and  strength,  as  he  rose; 
and  night,  with  its  silence  and  cold  dews,  is  coming.  The 
little  band  of  persecuted  Christians,   whom   no  danger 


EVENING  HYMN.  25 

could  deprive  of  the  joy  of  meeting  to  claim  their  Lord's 
promise  to  the  "  two  or  three,"  have  gathered  by  the  river 
side,  in  *he  upper  chamber,  or  in  the  inner  court.  Or,  in 
later  times,  amidst  the  great  spaces  of  the  Oriental  ca- 
thedral at  Antioch,  Constantinople,  or  Alexandria,  among 
the  heavy  shadows  of  buildings  meant  rather  to  exclude 
than  to  admit  the  light,  the  great  Christian  assembly  has 
met.  The  visible  sun  has  gone,  but  the  Church  is  a 
dweller  in  perpetual  light.  Christians  are  children  of  the 
day,  and  they  have  met  to  gaze  in  faith  on  Him  whose 
presence  makes  day  and  heaven,  Christ  the  light  of  holy 
glory,  the  giver  of  life. 

The  next  Evening  Hymn  is  probably  of  a  much  later 
date,  and  of  a  different  character.  It  is  the  aspiration  of 
a  single  heart,  one  oppressed  with  sins  and  conscious  of 
danger ;  but  it  has  its  own  interest,  as  in  its  simple  accents 
we  listen  to  the  secret  supplications  of  one  who  fought  the 
good  fight  more  than  a  thousand  years  ago. 

EVENING  HYMN. 

The  day  is  passing  on, 

I  thank  Thee,  0  Lord. 

I  beseech  Thee  this  evening  and  this  night 

Keep  me  without  sin, 

Saviour,  and  save  me ! 

The  day  is  passing  away, 

I  glorify  Thee,  0  Master. 

I  beseech  Thee  this  evening  and  this  night 

Keep  me  without  offence, 

Saviour,  and  save  me! 

The  day  has  pass'd  away, 
I  praise  Thee,  Holy  One. 


20  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

I  beseech  Thee  this  evening  and  this  night 
Keep  me  free  from  snares, 
Saviour,  and  save  me  ! 

Enlighten  mine  eyes, 
Christ,  0  God, 

That  I  sleep  not  unto  death  ; 
Let  not  mine  enemy  say, 
I  have  prevail'd  against  him ! 

Be  the  guard  of  my  soul, 
O  God,  for  I  pass  on 
Through  the  midst  of  snares, 
Deliver  me  from  them  and  save, 
Thou  Gracious  One,  who  lovest  men  ! 

Before  passing  on  from  the  hymns  which  refer  to  special 
seasons  of  the  day,  one  more  may  be  given,  which  seems 
intended  for  waking  hours  at  night.  It  seerns  a  response 
to  the  Psalmist's  "  At  midnight  will  I  arise,  and  sing 
praises  unto  Thee,"  and  solemnly  must  the  words  have 
echoed  through  the  silence. 

AN  ECHO. 

Being  raised  up  from  sleep 

We  fall  before  Thee,  gracious  One, 

And  we  cry  aloud  the  angels'  hymn 

To  Thee,  mighty  One. 

Holy,  holy,  art  Thou,  O  God, 

For  Thy  mercy's  sake  have  mercy  on  us. 

From  the  couch  and  from  sleep 
Thou  raisest  me,  0  Lord  ! 
Enlighten  my  mind  and  my  heart, 
And  open  Thou  my  lips, 


MIDNIGHT  HYMN.  27 

That  I  may  praise  Thee,  holy  Trinity : 
Holy,  holy,  holy,  art  Thou. 

The  Judge  will  come  with  a  great  multitude, 
And  the  deeds  of  each  one  shall  be  laid  bare ; 
But  with  fear  we  will  cry  in  the  midst  of  the  night, 
Holy,  holy,  holy,  art  Thou. 

By  far  the  greater  number  of  the  anonymous  hymns 
are  inspired,  not  by  special  circumstances  in  the  writer's 
life,  but  by  the  contemplation  of  Christ — His  birth,  bap- 
tism, death,  resurrection,  and  ascension.  Of  these  the 
larger  proportion  are  suggested  by  His  nativity,  involving 
the  incarnation,  the  union  of  the  Godhead  and  humanity 
in  His  person,  and  the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy. 

If  any  difference  is  apparent  between  the  theology  of 
these  early  hymns  and  that  of  St  Paul  and  St  Peter,  it 
seems  to  be  this  :  the  incarnation  and  nativity  of  our 
Lord  seem  in  the  hymns  to  fix  the  attention,  rather  than 
His  death  and  resurrection.  The  language  would  perhaps 
be  rather,  "  I  was  determined  to  know  nothing  among 
you,  save  Jesus  Christ,  and  Him  incarnate,"  than,  "  I 
was  determined  to  know  nothing  among  you,  save  Jesus 
Christ,  and  Him  crucified."  And  in  some  measure  the 
results  of  this  difference  may  be  traced.  There  is  great 
rejoicing  in  Christ  as  the  Restorer  and  Saviour,  great 
adoration  of  Him  as  God  manifest  in  the  flesh ;  but  per- 
haps less  apprehension  of  Him  as  the  Redeemer  of  sinners, 
the  Lamb  of  God,  who  has  washed  us  from  our  sins  in 
His  own  blood;  and,  therefore,  less  apprehension  of  the 
completeness  of  the  redemption,  and  the  blessed  security 
of  the  believer,  living  or  dead.     From  this  tendency  to 


28  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

make  the  manger,  rather  than  the  cross,  the  centre  of  the 
faith,  probably  arose  those  first  misapprehensions  of  the 
position  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  which  afterwards  spread  so 
sadly.  The  few  specimens  translated  here  may  illustrate 
this,  whilst  also  shewing  the  depth  of  love  and  trust  felt 
for  that  infinite  Saviour,  of  whose  fulness  all  receive. 

ON  THE  NATIVITY  OF  CHRIST. 

Make  ready,  0  Bethlehem ! 

Eden  is  open'd  to  all; 

Prepare,  0  Ephratah! 

For  the  Tree  of  Life 

Has  come  forth  in  the  cave 

From  the  Virgin.    Paradise 

Thus  did  her  womb  become, 

In  which  was  the  Divine  Tree, 

Of  which  we  eat  and  live. 

Not  like  Adam  shall  we  die, 

For  Christ  is  born 

To  raise  again  the  fallen  image, 

And  transform  it  by  partaking  it. 

AGAIN  ON  THE  NATIVITY. 

Thy  birth,  0  Christ  our  God, 

Has  caused  to  rise  on  the  world  the  light  of  knowledge ; 

For  by  it,  the  worshippers  of  the  stars 

Were  taught  by  a  star  to  worship  Thee, 

The  Sun  of  righteousness,  and  to  know  Thee, 

The  Dayspring  from  on  high.    0  Lord,  glory  to  Thee  I 

The  first-fruits  of  the  Gentiles,  Heaven 
Gather'd  in  to  thee,  a  babe  lying  in  the  manger. 
Calling  the  wise  men  by  a  star, 
Astonish'd  to  behold, 


HYMNS  ON  THE  NATIVITY.  29 

Not  sceptre  and  throne,  but  the  uttermost  poverty; 
For  what  poorer  than  a  cave  'I 
And  what  meaner  than  swaddling  clothes  ? 
Through  which  shone  the  riches  of  Thy  Deity. 
O  Lord,  glory  to  Thee  ! 

NATAL  HYMN. 

The  Virgin  to-day 

Bears  the  Infinite, 

And  the  earth  draws  near 

In  the  cave  to  the  Inaccessible. 

Angels  with  shepherds 

Render  homage ; 

Magi  with  stars 

Shew  the  way ; 

Since  for  our  sakes 

The  God  from  eternity  has  become  the  new-born  babe. 

DOXOLOGT. 
Thy  pure  image  we  worship, 
0  good  Lord,  beseeching  Thee, 
Pardon  our  failures. 
Christ,  our  God ! 

Thou  wast  content  in  Thy  good  will 
To  come  in  the  flesh, 

That  Thou  mightest  redeem  those  Thou  hadst  made 
From  the  bondage  of  the  enemy. 
Wherefore,  thankfully  wTe  cry  unto  Thee, 
Who  fillest  all  with  joy  ! 
Our  Saviour,  who  didst  appear 
To  save  the  world  ! 

HYMN. 

The  Mystery  hidden  from  the  ages, 
And  unknown  to  angels, 


30  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

Through  a  virgin  made  manifest  to  those  on  the  earth, 

God  uniting  Himself  to  flesh 

Without  confounding  the  substance, 

And  voluntarily  enduring  the  cross  for  us, 

By  which,  restoring  the  first  Adam, 

He  saved  our  souls  from  death. 


ON  THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 

Christ,  compassionate  to  all, 

Taking  away  the  multitude  of  transgressions, 

By  immeasurable  mercy ; 

Thou  comest  as  man 

To  be  baptized  in  the  waters  of  Jordan, 

Clothing  me  with  the  robe  of  glory, 

Before  miserably  stripped  of  all. 

ON  THE  SAME. 

When  Thou  wast  baptized  in  Jordan,  O  Christ, 

The  worship  of  the  Trinity  was  revealed, 

For  the  voice  of  the  Father  bears  witness  to  Thee, 

Calling  Thee  the  beloved  Son  ; 

And  the  Spirit,  in  the  form  of  a  dove,. 

Confirmed  the  sure  word. 

O  Christ,  God  made  manifest, 

And  illuminating  the  world,  glory  to  Thee  ! 

ON  THE  EPIPHANY. 

When  in  Thy  Epiphany,  Thou  didst  enlighten  all  things, 

Then  the  salt  sea  of  unbelief  fled, 

And  down-flowing  Jordan  turned  its  course, 

Lifting  us  upwards  to  heaven. 

But  in  the  height  of  Thy  Divine  commandments 

Keep  us,  Christ,  0  God,  and  save  us. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION  AND  RESURRECTION.  31 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  same  tendency  to  make  the 
Incarnation  and  Epiphany  the  central  facts  of  Chris- 
tianity, rather  than  the  Cross  and  the  Resurrection,  that 
the  Epiphany  should  have  been  the  great  festival  of  the 
Oriental  Churches.*  t 

The  five  following  hymns  are,  however,  on  the  Cruci- 
fixion and  the  Resurrection.  They  are  enough  to  shew 
what  the  faith  of  those  who  sang  them  was;  and  the 
triumphal  tone  of  the  grand  chant  of  victory  rings 
through  them  all. 

TO  CHRIST  ON  THE  CROSS. 

Thou  who,  on  the  sixth  day  and  hour3 

Didst  nail  to  the  cross  the  sin 

Which  Adam  dared  in  paradise ; 

Kend  also  the  handwriting  of  our  transgressions, 

0  Christ,  our  God,  and  save  us ! 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Thou  workest  salvation  in  the  midst  of  the  earth, 
Christ,  0  God,  stretching  on  the  cross  Thy  spotless  hands ; 
Gathering  in  all  the  nations  as  they  cry, 
0  Lord,  glory  to  Thee ! 

ON  THE  RESURRECTION. 

To-day,  salvation  to  the  world ! 

We  gather  together  to  Him  who  has  risen  from  the  tomb ; 

The  Prince  of  life,  Christ  our  God; 

Taking  away  death, 

He  gave  the  victory  to  us, 

And  the  great  mercy. 

Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead ; 
In  death  trampling  on  death ; 

* Neanders  Leben  des  heiligen  Johannes  Cbrysostomus. 


32  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

And  on  those  in  the  graves 
Bestowing  life. 

Beholding  the  resurrection  of  Christ, 
We  worship  the  holy  Lord, 
Jesus,  the  only  sinless  One ; 
Thy  cross,  0  Christ,  we  adore, 
And  Thy  holy  resurrection 
We  praise  and  glorify. 

By  Thy  body  in  the  grave, 

By  Thy  soul  in  Hades, 

As  God  in  paradise  with  the  thief, 

And  on  the  throne,  art  Thou  by  Thine  essence,  0  Christ, 

With  the  Father  and  the  Spirit, 

Filling  all  things — the  Incomprehensible. 

Life-giving,  more  pleasant  than  paradise, 

More  glorious  than  any  bridal-chamber  of  kings, 

Appears  Thy  sepulchre,  O  Christ, 

The  fountain  of  our  resurrection. 

Taking  our  form  on  Thee, 

And  enduring  the  cross  bodily, 

Save  me  by  Thy  resurrection, 

Christ,  0  God,  who  lovest  men. 

From  the  highest,  full  of  pity,  Thou  earnest  down, 
Wast  laid  for  three  days  in  the  grave, 
That  Thou  mightst  free  us  from  suffering: 
Our  life,  and  our  resurrection, 
0  Lord,  glory  to  Thee ! 

ON  THE  ASCENSION. 

Thou  art  received  up  into  glory,  O  Christ,  our  God, 
Having  made  glad  Thy  disciples 


THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS.  33 

By  the  promise  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
Strengthening  them  by  Thy  blessing  : 
For  Thou  art  the  Son  of  God, 
The  Redeemer  of  the  world. 

"When  Thou  hadst  fulfill Yi  the  dispensation  for  us. 

And  united  things  on  earth  to  heaven, 

Thou  wast  received  up  into  glory,  0  Christ,  our  God. 

Yet,  even  there  not  parted  from  us,  but  abiding 

Unsever'd  from  those  who  love  Thee. 

u  I  am  with  you,  and  none  against  you." 

ON  PENTECOST. 

When,  descending,  He  confused  the  tongues, 

The  Highest  scatter'd  the  nations ; 

When  He  distributed  the  tongues  of  fire, 

He  calFd  all  to  unity  ; 

Thus,  with  one  voice,  we  glorify  the  All-holy  Spirit. 

The  following  is  more  subjective  than  any  of  the  others, 
and  reminds  us  more  of  the  Moravian  hymns,  or  some  of 
those  of  the  middle  ages : — 


SWEET  THOUGHTS,  WITH  REPENTANCE  TO  JESUS. 

Most  sweet  Jesus,  long-suffering  Jesus, 

Heal  the  wounds  of  my  soul, 

Jesus,  and  sweeten  my  heart ; 

I  pray  Thee,  most  merciful  Jesus,  my  Saviour, 

That  I,  saved,  may  magnify  Thee. 

Hear  me,  my  Saviour,  lover  of  man, 
Thy  servant  crying  in  affliction. 
And  deliver  me,  Jesus,  from  judgment 
c 


34  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

And  from  punishment,  only  One,  long-suffering, 
Most  sweet  Jesus,  only  One,  most  merciful. 

Receive  Thy  servant,  my  Saviour, 

Falling  before  Thee  with  tears,  my  Saviour ; 

And  save,  Jesus,  me  repenting, 

And  from  hell,  O  Master,  redeem  me,  Jesus  ; 

Heal,  my  Saviour,  my  soul 

Of  its  wounds,  Jesus,  I  pray  Thee ; 

And  with  Thine  hand  rescue  me,  my  Saviour 

Compassionate,  from  the  soul-murderer  Satan ;  and  save  ma 

I  have  sinned,  my  most  sweet  Saviour; 

Merciful,  my  Saviour,  save  me, 

Fleeing  to  Thy  defence,  long-suffering  Jesus, 

And  make  me  meet  for  Thy  kingdom. 

Thou,  0  Jesus,  art  the  light  of  my  mind, 

Thou  art  the  salvation  of  my  lost  soul ; — 

Thou  the  Saviour,  0  Jesus,  from  punishment 

And  from  hell  deliver  me,  weeping  like  a  helpless  child. 

Save,  0  Jesus,  0  my  Christ,  save  me,  miserable. 

Surely  in  these  words  we  can  feel  the  tears  with  which 
they  must  have  been  broken,  when  first  uttered  by  lips 
so  long  since  silent  in  the  grave.  And  surely  the  sobbing 
prayer  was  heard,  and  all  through  these  ages  the  answer 
has  been  pouring  forth  in  praise  in  heaven. 

Throughout  these  anonymous  hymns,  there  is  but  one 
which  aims  less  high  than  the  mercy-seat ;  but  one  is  ad- 
dressed to  the  creature  rather  than  the  Creator,  and  that 
is  a  hymn  for  the  dead,  which,  in  the  sixth  verse,  falls 
short  of  the  All-merciful  and  Omnipotent,  and  seeks  rest 
for  the  departed  from  the  "  blameless  mother  of  the  un- 
setting  Sun."     And  from  this  hymn  the  tone  of  exulting 


THJ;  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS.  35 

faith  and  joyful  hope  is  absent.  It  is  a  tender  lamenta- 
tion over  the  dead — "  a  little  while  before  with  us  and  now 
veiled  in  the  tomb,  dwelling  in  darkness,  noiseless,  with- 
out feeling,  motionless,  dead,  separated  from  all  kindred 
and  beloved."  It  is  but  a  strain  of  the  long  lamentation 
of  earth  over  the  life  which  "  withers  like  grass,  fades  like 
a  flower,  passes  away  like  a  dream  from  the  earth."  The 
darkness  is  not,  indeed,  unbroken;  there  is  a  feeble  glim- 
mering through  the  door  of  the  sepulchre — enough  of  faint 
hope  to  enable  the  heart  to  bear  the  terrible  thought  of 
death,  and  to  soften  the  despair  into  tears.  "  Let  us,  O  let 
us,  fall  down  before  Christ  with  tears.  Let  us  supplicate 
the  Lord  to  give  to  this  departed  one  everlasting  rest."  It 
is  felt  that  there  is  a  heart  in  heaven  to  shed  those  bitter 
tears  upon;  and  that  is  much,  much  indeed  beyond  the 
blank  ether  and  sapphire  sky  of  heathenism;  yet  how  dark 
this  praying  for  the  dead,  and  desolate  compared  with  that 
more  ancient  faith  which  has  come  forth  again  to  us — 
the  departure  to  be  at  once  with  a  present  Saviour,  the 
"  paradise  to-day,"  the  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit/'' 
the  assurance,  "  those  that  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring 
with  Him." 

It  is  the  object  of  these  pages  to  dig  up  the  living 
roots  of  faith,  however  deep  they  have  been  buried,  and 
not  to  heap  up  memorials  of  the  barren  stone  and  sand 
which  hid  them  and  hindered  their  growth.  Yet,  more 
than  half  the  lessons  of  history  are  taught  by  contrasts; 
more  than  half  its  lights  are  signals  of  danger;  and  when 
the  evil  has  come  to  the  full,  and  through  so  many  cen- 
turies and  so  many  lands  the  whole  devotion  of  the  soul  has 
been  turned  aside  from  God  to  Mary,  and  the  love  which 


36  *  THE  ANONYMOUS  GREEK  HYMNS. 

laid  down  life  for  us  has  been  thought  cold  compared 
with  hers,  we  cannot  but  ask,  how  did  it  begin?  And 
may  not  the  answer  be  this :  The  cross  was  not  fully 
understood,  and  therefore  redemption  was  not  fully  appre- 
ciated ;  the  thoughts  were  directed  rather  to  the  Son  of 
God  coming  to  save,  than  to  the  Son  of  God  accomplish- 
ing salvation?  The  words,  "  It  is  finished,"  are  gradually 
lost,  and  therefore  the  song  of  thanksgiving  gradually 
falls  into  the  cry  for  deliverance,  and  the  cry  becomes 
more  and  more  bitter  and  less  confiding,  until  at  last  the 
unrest  is  carried  into  the  grave,  the  "sleep  in  Jesus"  is 
broken  into  tossings  on  a  sea  of  fire,  and  He  whose  love 
passeth  knowledge,  who  died  to  save  us,  is  represented  as 
the  king  of  thunders,  whose  lightnings  can  only  be  warded 
off  by  the  intercessions  of  His  compassionate  mother. 

Yet  these  early  hymns  have  surely  this  characteristic  : 
they  are  "  sung  unto  the  Lord."  They  are  full  of  faith 
in  a  personal,  listening  Saviour.  The  name  of  Jesus  is 
in  them  no  mere  summary  of  a  system  of  doctrines,  but 
the  name  of  a  living,  gracious,  mighty,  and  beloved 
Friend.  Some  of  them  are  so  true  and  so  tender,  so  sub- 
lime in  their  simplicity,  so  fall  of  the  repose  of  faith,  and 
so  free  from  the  flutter  of  fancy,  so  soaring  above  self  to 
God  in  lowly,  happy  adoration,  that  one  would  delight  to 
think  they  may  have  been  among  the  psalms,  and  hymns, 
and  spiritual  songs  to  which  St  Paid  listened,  or  the 
"  beloved  disciple,"  when  in  his  old  age  he  would  be  led 
to  meet  the  Church,  silently  to  join  their  worship,  and 
say  at  parting,    "Little  children,  love  one  another." 

But  we  know  not;  the  name  of  the  "master"  has 
perished,  and  the  strain  floats  down  to  us,  unlimited  by 


THE  ANONYHOUS  GREEK  HYMNS.  '  37 

any  personal  associations,  a  part  of  the  one  great  song. 
As  in  a  beautiful  cathedral,  of  which  the  architect's  name 
is  lost,  we  cannot  say,  "This  is  that  man's  work;"  but 
we  may  say  instead,  "  This  is  God's  house,  let  us  worship 
Him."  Surely,  could  the  singers  stoop  from  their  places 
among  the  blessed  and  listen,  they  would  ask  no  more. 

We  may  close  this  chapter  with  an  anonymous  Oriental 
doxology,  with  which  we  might  well  be  content  at  last  to 
close  our  psalm  of  life. 

God  is  my  hope, 

Christ  is  my  refuge, 

The  Holy  Spirit  is  my  vesture ; 

Holy  Trinity,  glory  to  Thee. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS,  AND 
GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM. 

We  come  now  to  another  level,  more  within  the  ordinary- 
horizon  of  sacred  song — to  hymns  whose  range  has  been 
less  extended,  and  of  whose  writers  we  can  form  a  more 
definite  picture.  The  singers,  as  well  as  the  songs,  become 
perceptible;  although,  in  some  instances,  the  songs  seem 
more  familiar  to  us,  less  estranged  by  the  foreign  garb  of 
distant  lands  and  ages  than  the  singers.  The  truths  of 
the  hymns  come  home  to  our  hearts,  whilst  the  mode  of 
life  and  thought  of  the  writers  often  seems  difficult  to 
understand. 

Of  all  the  cities  on  that  great  inland  sea  which  once 
washed  the  shores  of  every  civilised  state  in  the  world, 
perhaps  none  serve  better  as  a  tide-mark  to  shew  how  far 
the  centre  of  the  social  world  has  glided  westward  than 
Alexandria.  Rome  is  still  imperial,  and  it  is  the  nature 
rather  than  the  locality  of  her  empire  which  has  changed; 
Constantinople  is  still  the  centre  of  its  own  system,  feeble 
and  ruinous  as  both  centre  and  system  are;  Jerusalem,  as 
of  old,  is  the  holy  city  of  faith;  but  Alexandria,  still 
indeed  busy  and  flourishing,  is  busy  and  flourishing  only 
as  the  channel  of  traffic  from  western  regions,  which 
were   backwoods  and  copper-diggings  when  her   palaces 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  39 

first  rose.  White  palaces  and  quays  still  gleam  across  the 
blue  Mediterranean,  breaking  the  sandy  glow  of  the  flat 
Egyptian  shores;  the  streets  are  thronged  with  eager 
motley  crowds,  and  luxurious  villas,  with  their  gardens, 
fringe  the  suburbs ;  but  the  motion  is  galvanic,  communi- 
cated by  impulse  from  without,  not  flowing  from  life 
within;  English  and  French  merchants  are  her  princes, 
the  city  is  but  a  great  inn  on  the  overland  route,  and  if 
the  great  Oriental  traffic  could  find  other  channels,  Alex- 
andria might  soon  sink  into  a  silent,  ruinous,  dreamy 
Turkish  village,  like  Tyre  or  Sidon.  Sixteen  hundred 
years  ago  it  was  indeed  different,  and  to  understand,  in  any 
measure,  any  life  which  was  lived  there  then,  we  must 
clothe  the  skeleton,  we  must  transform  the  dry  dead 
names  in  the  ancient  atlas  into  pictures. 

About  the  close  of  the  second  century,  when  Clement 
was  called  to  be  the  head  of  the  catechetical  school  at 
Alexandria,  he  was  called  to  a  centre  of  thought  and  life 
from  which  the  slightest  touch  vibrated  in  a  thousand 
directions.  His  own  intellectual  history  illustrates  strongly 
the  contrast  between  the  past  and  the  present.  He  seems 
to  have  been  a  merchantman  seeking  goodly  pearls, 
until  he  found,  at  length,  the  pearl  of  great  price.  He 
wandered  restlessly  from  school  to  school,  seeking,  it 
seems,  not  to  become  learned,  but  to  find  truth;  not  con- 
tent, as  an  intellectual  curiosity-hunter,  to  hoard  up 
treasures  of  information,  he  wanted  some  living  truth  to 
live  upon.  His  search  was  long.  One  of  his  teachers 
came  from  Ionia,  the  old  birthplace  of  Greek  science  and 
poetry,  fires  not  yet  quite  burnt  into  ashes.  Clement  seems, 
however,  chiefly  to  have  drawn  from   Oriental  sources. 


40  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

His  two  next  teachers  were  a  Coelo-Syrian  and  an 
Assyrian — names  that  recall  associations  too  ancient 
and  shadowy  to  picture,  histories  whose  skeleton  is 
scarcely  left  to  us,  but  only  the  dry  embalmed  mummy, 
which  passes  into  dust  as  you  open  the  tcmb,  before  you 
can  tell  what  you  have  seen.  Did  thoughtful  and  edu- 
cated men,  indeed,  then  live  on  the  Coelo-Syrian  plain,  and 
converse  beneath  the  grand  porticoes  of  the  temples  at 
Baalbec?  Were  animated  philosophical  debates  held 
under  the  shadow  of  those  magnificent  columns  which  now 
stand  so  solitary  and  obsolete,  scarcely  able  to  tell  us  their 
own  history?  And  at  night,  when  the  glorious  Syrian 
moon  silvered  the  snows  of  Lebanon,  and  threw  the 
gigantic  shadows  of  those  temples  across  the  great  spaces 
of  their  courts,  did  men  watch  there,  whom  all  this  beauty 
led  to  question  what  lay  beneath  and  beyond?  Many 
centuries  have  passed,  indeed,  since  men  have  looked  for 
intellectual  light,  as  Clement  did,  from  Asia  Minor, 
Assyria,  and  the  Lebanon  plains.  The  heavy  black  pall  of 
Mohammedanism  has  fallen  over  them  all,  yet  surely  not 
before  the  life  had  fled. 

Clement  had  one  other  teacher,  a  Jew  from  Palestine. 
The  great  Light  which  shone  for  a  time  in  bodily  pre- 
sence on  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  had  been  re- 
jected, and  had  withdrawn  itself;  the  sentence  of  death 
had  fallen  on  the  cities  of  Galilee,  but  it  was  not  yet 
executed  to  the  full.  Tiberias  wras  the  seat  of  a  school 
of  Jewish  rabbis,  and  on  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee  Clement  could  still  listen  to  the  voices  of  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  himself  yefc  ignorant  of  the  Voice  which 
had  silenced  their  lifeless  commentaries,  of  the  beneficent 


AXD  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  41 

footsteps  which  had  once  trod  those  shores  and  those 
waves,  bringing  health  to  the  sick  and  suffering  there. 
But  it  was  at  Alexandria  that  Clement  first  learned  the 
Divine  word  which  could  solve  the  riddles  of  philosophers 
and  rabbis.  Here,  at  length,  he  found  what  he  had  uncon- 
sciously sought,  redemption  and  spiritual  strength  in  a 
living  Redeemer,  and  here  his  wanderings  ended.  Pan- 
tamus,  the  catechetical  Christian  teacher  from  whom  he 
learned  Christianity,  after  a  time  went  as  a  missionary 
into  India,  and  Clement  took  his  place.  He  had  found 
a  truth  it  was  worth  while  to  spend  life  in  com- 
municating. For  such  a  mission  no  more  central  spot 
existed  than  Alexandria.  A  mart,  as  now,  of  eastern 
and  western  traffic,  merchants  resorted  thither  from  all 
quarters;  to  the  south  stretched  the  great  Egyptian 
granary  of  Eome;  along  the  coasts  of  Syria,  and  Asia 
Minor,  and  Northern  Africa  were  rich  cultivated  lands, 
and  a  busy  manufacturing  population;  the  seas  all  around 
were  specked  with  countless  sails  of  vessels,  trading,  in 
short  voyages,  from  island  to  island  and  city  to  city. 
With  their  merchandise  these  vessels,  like  the  Alex- 
andrian corn-ship  wrecked  at  Melita,  carried  the  heralds 
of  the  new  doctrine.  The  commercial  cities  where  the 
Jews  had  planted  their  synagogues,  became  everywhere 
the  sites  of  infant  churches.  At  Alexandria  was  the  great 
mint  and  exchange  for  Oriental  and  European  thought. 
Mystical  and  undefined  Oriental  visions,  acute  and  compre- 
hensive Greek  theories,  narrow  and  imperious  rabbinical 
dogmas  met  here,  and  were  exchanged  or  re-coined.  In 
the  midst  of  all  these  Clement  taught,  not  so  much  in  the 
pulpit  of  a  lecture-room,  or  a  church,  as  in  the  philoso- 


42  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA.  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

pliers  cloak,  pacing  up  and  down  the  shady  porticoes.  To 
him  these  varied  phases  of  thought  were  no  mere  theories 
known  as  to  a  critic  from  outside.  He  had  learned  them 
by  trying  them.  Many  of  these  streams  had  flowed  in 
succession  through  his  own  mind,  and  he  knew  what 
they  could  give  and  what  they  could  not  give.  They 
had  formed  part,  not  merely  of  the  catalogue  of  his  ac- 
quirements, but  of  the  experience  of  his  heart. 

In  these  respects  he  had  some  of  the  qualifications  of 
St  Paul.  But  the  flood  of  Christian  truth  had  not 
rushed  with  such  force  through  his  mind  as  entirely  to 
sweep  away  all  remains  of  falsehood,  leaving,  as  with  St 
Paul,  only  the  sympathy  of  memory  with  those  in  error. 
His  eyes  do  not  seem  always  to  have  been  clear  to  see 
the  grandeur  of  simple  truth  above  the  high-sounding 
theories  of  his  time.  He  did  not  always  perceive  how 
much  deeper  the  simplest  faith  which  brings  into  com- 
munion with  God  is,  than  the  most  profound  reasoning 
about  the  things  of  God.  The  fashion  of  this  world,  and, 
therefore,  the  doom  of  this  world,  seems  to  have  been  on 
much  of  his  teaching,  and  so  far  it  has  "  passed  away." 
Yet  many  words  are  quoted  from  his  writings,  immortal 
because  really  living. 

Although  we  know  absolutely  nothing  of  Clement,  ex- 
cept of  his  intellectual  or  spiritual  history;  although  his 
home  (if  he  had  one)  is  altogether  hidden  from  us,  and  he 
is  to  us  rather  a  voice  than  a  man  ;  yet  we  must  own 
some  familiar  communion  of  the  heart  from  which  flowed 
such  words  as  these  : — 

"  Prayer,  if  I  may  speak  so  boldly,  is  intercourse  with 
God.     Even  if  we  do  but  lisp,  even  though  we  silently 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIAXZUM.  43 

address  God  without  opening  our  lips,  yet  we  cry  to  Him 
in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  heart,  for  God  always  listens 
to  the  sincere  direction  of  the  heart  to  Him." 

And  again,  we  feel  how  closely  knowledge  and  faith 
must  have  been  interwoven  in  him,  when  he  says  of  a 
true  Christian,  "  He  will  pray  in  every  place,  but  not 
openly  to  be  seen  of  men.  Even  when  he  is  walking  for 
recreation,  in  his  converse  with  others,  in  silence,  in  read- 
ing, in  all  rational  pursuits,  he  finds  opportunity  for  prayer. 
And  although  he  is  only  thinking  on  God  in  the  little 
cl) amber  of  his  soul,  and  calling  on  his  Father  with  silent 
aspiration,  God  is  near  him,  and  with  him,  for  he  is  still 
speaking  to  Him." 

To  Clement  "not  the  place  was  the  church,  but  the 
congregation  of  the  elect;"  and  he  recommended  the 
Christian  husband  and  wife  to  consecrate  each  day  by 
commencing  it  with  reading  the  Bible  and  prayer. 

Such  wras  the  earliest  Christian  hymn  writer  whose 
name  has  come  down  to  us.  The  one  hymn  which  is  at- 
tributed to  him  is  indeed  rather  a  catalogue  of  scriptural 
figures,  than  an  outburst  of  glowing  adoration  ;  but  it 
gives  a  deep  meaning  to  every  word  of  it,  to  link  it  with 
Clement's  own  description  of  the  perils  amidst  which  it 
was  written.  "  Daily,"  he  wrote,  "  martyrs  are  burnt, 
beheaded,  and  crucified  before  our  eyes." 

He  himself  was  at  length  obliged  to  flee  for  his  life  from 
Alexandria,  and  of  his  subsequent  history  scarcely  any- 
thing is  known.  The  catalogue  of  images  in  the  hymn, 
of  which  the  following  lines  are  an  attempt  at  a  transla- 
tion, must  surely  have  been  to  Clement  a  catalogue  of  trea- 
sures which  he  found  in  Christ,  and  in  which  he  rejoiced. 


44  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPIIRAEM  SYHU3, 


HYMN  OF  THE  SAVIOUR  CHRIST. 

Mouth  of  babes  who  cannot  speak, 

Wing  of  nestlings  who  cannot  fly, 

Sure  Guide  of  babes, 

Shepherd  of  royal  sheep, 

Gather  Thine  own 

Artless  children 

To  praise  in  holiness, 

To  sing  in  guilelessness 

With  blameless  lips, 

Thee,  0  Christ,  Guide  of  children* 

Christ,  King  of  saints, 
All-governing  Word, 
Of  the  Highest  Father, 
Chief  of  wisdom, 
Support  of  toil, 
Ever-rejoicing, 
Of  mortal  race, 
Saviour  Jesus ! 
Shepherd,  Husbandman, 
Helm,  Rein. 

Heavenly  wing 

Of  Thy  all-white  flock, 

Fisher  of  men, 

Of  the  saved, 

From  the  sea  of  evil, 

The  helpless  fish 

From  the  hostile  wave. 

By  sweet  life  enticing. 

Lead,  0  Shepherd 
Of  reasoning  sheep, 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  15 

Holy  One,  lead, 

King  of  speechless  children ! 

The  footsteps  of  Christ 

Are  the  heavenly  way. 

Ever-flowing  Word, 

Infinite  Age,. 

Perpetual  Light, 

Fountain  of  mercy, 

Worker  of  virtue, 

Holy  sustenance 

Of  those  who  praise  God,  Christ  Jesus. 

The  heavenly  milk 

Of  the  sweet  breasts 

Of  the  bride  of  graces, 

Pressed  out  of  Thy  wisdom. 

These  babes 
With  tender  lips 
Nourished ; 

By  the  dew  of  the  Spirit 
Replenished  ; 
Their  artless  praises, 
Their  true  hymns, 
0  Christ  our  King, 
Sacred  rewards  (products) 
Of  the  doctrine  of  life, 
We  hymn  together, 
We  hymn  in  simplicity, 
The  Mighty  Child. 
The  chorus  of  peace, 
The  kindred  of  Christ, 
The  race  of  the  temperate, 
We  will  praise  together  the  God  of  peace. 
Through  all  the  images  here  so  quaintly  interwoven, 
like  a  stained  window,  of  which  the  eye  loses  the  design 


46  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

in  the  complication  of  colours,  we  may  surely  trace,  as  in 
quaint  old  letters  on  a  scroll  winding  through  all  the 
mosaic  of  tints,  "Christ  all  in  all."  And  could  the  earliest 
Christian  hymn  bear  a  nobler  inscription  ?  Yet,  at  the 
same  time,  we  must  remember  that  whilst  the  truth  of 
the  early  Christian  writings  bears  precious  testimony  to 
the  Christian  life  of  the  times,  their  defects  and  mistakes 
bear,  by  contrast,  no  less  valuable  testimony  to  the 
inspiration  of  those  earlier  writings  in  which  neither  de- 
fect nor  mistake  is  found. 

More  than  a  century  passes  between  the  days  of  Clement 
and  the  next  hymn  writer  whose  name  is  known,  and  of 
him  we  know  little  but  the  name. 

Ephraem  Syrus  was  a  monk  and  a  deacon,  and  lived 
in  that  "  land  beyond  the  flood,"  from  which  'Abraham 
was  called  to  be  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger  in  the  land  of 
promise.  Monasticism  was  becoming  more  and  more  the 
one  accepted  type  of  a  religious  life,  and  Ephraem  is 
spoken  of  as  a  man  of  learning  and  a  monk.  Yet  his 
hymns  breathe  much  of  the  fragrance  of  a  home.  They 
seem  remarkable  for  childlike  simplicity  and  much  tender- 
ness of  natural  feeling.  There  is  a  simple  joyousness 
about  his  thanksgivings.  He  seems  to  have  loved  to 
dwell  on  such  themes  as  the  infancy  of  the  Saviour,  the 
Hosannas  of  the  children,  the  happiness  of  those  who 
died  in  childhood.  One  can  fancy  little  children  cluster- 
ing round  his  knee,  and  learning  from  his  lips  to  lisp  such 
words  as  these : — 

THE  CHILDREN  IN  PARADISE. 

To  Thee,  0  God,  be  praises 
From  lips  of  babes  and  sucklings, 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUJL  47 

As  in  the  heavenly  meadows 

Like  spotless  lambs  they  feed 

'Mid  leafy  trees  they  pasture. 
Thus  saith  the  Blessed  Spirit ; 
And  Gabriel,  prince  of  angels. 

That  happy  flock  doth  lead. 

The  messengers  of  Heaven, 
With  sons  of  light  united, 
In  purest  regions  dwelling, 

No  curse  or  woe  they  see. 

And  at  the  Resurrection, 
With  joy  arise  their  bodies; 
Their  spirits  knew  no  bondage, 
Their  bodies  now  are  free. 

Brief  here  below  their  sojourn, 
Their  dwelling  is  in  Eden, 
And  one  bright  day  their  parents 
Hope  yet  with  them  to  be. 

Christian  children  of  those  distant  limes  might  thus, 
as  they  thought  of  their  little  brothers  and  sisters  in  the 
grave,  sing,  "  We  are  seven." 

They  could  also  learn  to  echo  the  chant  of  the  children 
who  cried  Hosanna  before  Him  who  had  taken  the  little 
ones  in  His  arms  and  blessed  then,  perhaps  in  the  very 
language  of  the  children  of  Jerusalem,  as  they  sang  these 
words  of  Ephraem  : — 

ON  PALM  SUNDAY. 

Salem  is  shouting  with  her  children, 
Praise  Him  who  comes,  and  is  to  come, 


48  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

Hosanna,  here  and  in  the  highest, 
Be  to  the  Father's  mighty  Son. 

Praise  Him  who  once  Himself  did  humble 
In  love  to  save  our  human  race, 

Praise  Him  who  all  the  world  doth  gladden 
With  God  His  Father's  boundless  grace. 

O  Lord,  who  would  not  gaze  and  wonder 
To  see  how  low  has  stooped  Thy  love! 

The  cherubim  on  fiery  chariots 
Thy  glory  humbly  bear  above. 

And  here  an  ass's  foal  doth  bear  Thee, 
Thee  in  Thy  might  and  holiness, 

Because  Thou  earnest  in  Thy  pity 
Our  fallen  race  to  save  and  bless. 

This  day  of  joy  to  all  creation, 

My  happy  soul  shall  have  her  psalm, 

And  bear  her  branches  of  thanksgiving, 
As  those  bore  branches  once  of  palm. 

Before  the  foal  the  children  strewed  them, 
Owning  Thy  hidden  majesty; 

Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David, 

We  with  the  children  cry  to  Thee, 


ON  THE  lRIUMPHAL  ENTRY  OF  JESUS  INTO  JERUSALEM, 

He  calls  us  to  a  day  of  gladness, 
Who  came  to  us,  the  King's  own  Son  ; 

Go  forth  with  boughs  of  palm  to  meet  Him, 
And  Him  with  loud  Hosannas  own. 

The  angels  are  with  us  rejoicing, 
Angelic  trumpets  swell  our  song, 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  49 

All  nations  in  one  joy  uniting, 
Hosanna  sounds  in  every  tongue. 

To  Thee,  0  Lord,  loud  praise  ascendeth, 

From  every  creature  in  its  kind ; 
Thee,  with  an  awed  and  quiv'ring  motion, 

Exalteth  every  waving  wind. 

The  heavens  in  their  quiet  beauty- 
Praise  Thy  essential  majesty ; 

The  heights  rejoice  from  which  Thou  earnest. 
The  depths  spring  up  to  welcome  Thee. 

The  sea  exults  to  feel  Thy  footsteps, 

The  land  Thy  tread,  Lord,  knoweth  well; 

Our  human  nature  brings  thanksgivings, 
Because  Thy  Godhead  there  doth  dwell. 

To-day  the  sun  rejoicing  shineth, 

With  happy  radiance  tenfold  bright, 
In  homage  to  that  Sun  of  glory 

Which  brings  to  all  the  nations  light. 

The  moon  shall  shed  her  fairest  lustre, 
O'er  all  the  heavens  her  softest  glow, 

Thee  on  her  radiant  heights  adoring, 
Who  for  our  sakes  hast  stoop'd  so  low. 

And  all  the  starry  hosts  of  heaven, 

In  festive  robes  of  light  array 'd, 
Shall  bring  their  festal  hymns  as  offerings 

To  Him  who  all  so  fair  hath  made. 

To-day  the  forests  are  rejoicing, 

Each  tree  its  own  sweet  anthem  sings, 


50  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

Because  we  wave  their  leafy  branches 
As  banners  for  the  King  of  kings. 

To-day  let  all  the  brute  creation, 

Kejoicing,  be  no  longer  dumb, 
For  lowly  on  the  foal  He  sitteth, 

The  Heavenly  One  to  us  hath  come. 

Let  every  village,  every  city, 

In  happy  tumult  sing  His  name, 
Since  even  infant  lips  are  shouting, 

" Blessed  is  He, the  King  who  came!" 

Throughout  those  of  his  hymns  translated  into  German 
in  Daniel's  "  Thesaurus,"  there  is  a  Christian  feeling  far 
deeper  than  the  Manichseanism,  which  looked  on  visible 
nature  and  natural  emotion  as  at  war  with  God.  In  a 
hymn  on  the  Nativity,  he  imagines  all  creation  thronging 
round  the  infant  Saviour;  the  shepherds  bringing  Him 
offerings  from  their  flocks — "a  lamb  to  the  Paschal 
Lamb,  to  the  First-born  a  first-born;"  the  lamb  bleating 
its  praises  to  Him  whose  coming  freed  lambs  and  oxen 
from  sacrifice,  since  He  Himself,  the  "  Lamb  of  God,"  has 
brought  us  the  true  perpetual  Easter  festival.  The  shep- 
herds praise  Him,  "  the  chief  Shepherd,  who  shall 
gather  all  in  one  flock,  the  Child  older  than  Noah,  and 
younger  :" — 

Thy  father  David  once 
To  save  a  lamb  a  lion  slew  ;  but  Thou, 
0  David's  Son,  destroyest  that  fierce  wolf, 
Invisible,  who  slew  of  old  Adam, 
A  spotless  lamb,  pastured  in  paradise. 

Old  men,  and  gray -haired  women,  crowd  out  of  the 
city  of  David  to  greet  Him;  young  men,  maidens  and 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIAXZt'M.  51 

mothers,  gather  around  Him  who  came  to  consecrate 
every  aspect  of  human  life. 

It  is  a  touching  allegory,  rising  far  indeed  above  the 
narrow  horizon  of  monastic  ism. 

The  following  lines  on  the  Epiphany  must  be  given  in 
full.     It  may  be  called 

THE  STAR  OP  BETHLEHEM. 

A  star  shines  forth  in  heaven  suddenly, 

A  wondrous  orb,  less  than  the  sun — yet  greater ; — 

Less  in  its  outward  light,  but  greater  in 

Its  inward  glory,  pointing  to  a  mystery. 

That  morning-star  sent  forth  its  beams  afar 

Into  the  land  of  those  who  had  no  light, 

Led  them  as  blind  men,  by  a  way  they  knew  not, 

Until  they  came  and  saw  the  Light  of  men, 

Offer'd  their  gifts,  received  eternal  life, 

Worshipp'd — and  went  their  way. 

Thus  had  the  Son  two  heralds,  one  on  high, 

And  one  below.     Above — the  star  rejoiced  ; 

Below — the  Baptist  bore  Him  record  : 

Two  heralds  thus,  one  heavenly,  one  of  earth ; 

That  witnessing  the  nature  of  the  Son, 

The  majesty  of  God,  and  this  His  human  nature. 

0  mighty  wonder  !  thus  were  they  the  heralds 

Both  of  His  Godhead,  and  His  manhood. 

Who  held  Him  only  for  a  son  of  earth, 

To  such  the  star  proclaim'd  His  heavenly  glory ; 

Who  held  Him  only  for  a  heavenly  spirit, 

To  such  the  Baptist  spoke  of  Him  as  man. 

And  in  the  holy  temple  Simeon  held  the  babe 

Fast  in  his  aged  arms,  and  sang  to  Him — 

To  me,  in  Thy  mercy, 

An  old  man,  Thou  art  come ; 


52      CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHKAEM  SYRUS, 

Thou  layest  my  body 

In  peace  in  the  tomb. 
Thou  soon  wilt  awake  me, 

And  bid  me  arise  ; 
Wilt  lead  me  transfigured 

To  paradise. 

Then  Anna  took  the  babe  upon  her  arms, 
And  press'd  her  mouth  upon  His  infant  lips ; 
Then  came  the  Holy  Spirit  on  her  lips, 
As  erst  upon  Isaiah's,  when  the  coal 
Had  touch'd  his  silent  lips,  and  open'd  them : 
With  glowing  heart  she  sang — 

O  Son  of  the  King  ! 

Though  Thy  birth-place  was  mean, 
All-hearing,  yet  silent, 

All-seeing,  unseen, 
Unknown,  yet  all-knowing, 

God,  and  yet  Son  of  man  ! 
Praise  to  Thy  name. 

The  hymn  next  translated  seems  very  true  and  beautiful 
in  its  contrast  of  faith  and  natural  feeling.  It  used  to  be 
sung  at  the  funerals  of  children ;  and  is  called 

LAMENT  OF  A  FATHER  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  LITTLE  SON. 

Child,  by  God's  sweet  mercy  given 

To  thy  mother  and  to  me, 
Entering  this  world  of  sorrows 

By  His  grace,  so  fair  to  see ; 
Fair  as  some  sweet  flower  in  summer, 

Till  death's  hand  on  thee  was  laid, 
Scorch'd  the  beauty  from  my  flower, 

Made  the  tender  petals  fade. 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIAXZUM.  53 

Yet  I  dare  not  weep  nor  murmur, 

For  I  know  the  King  of  kings 
Leads  thee  to  His  marriage-chamber, 

To  the  glorious  bridal  brings. 

Nature  fain  would  have  me  weeping, 

Love  asserts  her  mournful  right ; 
But  I  answer,  they  have  brought  thee 

To  the  happy  world  of  light. 
And  I  fear  that  my  lamentings, 

As  I  speak  thy  cherish'd  name, 
Desecrate  the  Royal  dwelling  ; — 

Fear  to  meet  deserved  blame, 
If  I  press  with  tears  of  anguish 

Into  the  abode  of  joy  ; 
Therefore  will  I,  meekly  bowing, 

Offer  thee  to  God,  my  boy. 

Yet  thy  voice,  thy  childish  singing, 

Soundeth  ever  in  my  ears  ; 
And  I  listen,  and  remember, 

Till  mine  eyes  will  gather  tears, 
Thinking  of  thy  pretty  prattlings, 

And  thy  childish  words  of  love  ; 
But  when  I  begin  to  murmur, 

Then  my  spirit  looks  above, 
Listens  to  the  songs  of  spirits — 

Listens,  longing,  wondering, 
To  the  ceaseless  glad  Hosannas 

Angels  at  thv  bridal  sing. 

There  is  also  a  song  of  Ephraem's  about  Paradise,  the 
feet  of  whose  mountains  the  highest  waves  of  the  Delude 
could  but  touch  and  kiss,  and  reverently  turn  aside; 
■where  the  sons  of  light  tread  the  sea  like  Peter,  and  sail 


54  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

the  ether  on  their  chariots  of  cloud.  And  there  is  a 
hymn  on  the  Resurrection,  full  of  beautiful  images,  or 
rather  visions;  the  gates  of  paradise  opening  of  themselves 
to  the  just;  the  guardian  angel  striking  his  harp  as  he  goes 
forth  to  meet  them,  when  "  the  Bridegroom  comes  with 
songs  of  joy  from  the  East,  and  the  kingdom  of  death  is 
made  desolate,  as  the  children  of  Adam  rise  from  the  dust, 
and  soar  to  meet  their  Lord."  There  is  mention  also  of  a 
fire  to  be  passed  through  ere  paradise  is  reached  (a  fire 
not  purgatorial,  but  testing),  the  unjust  being  devoured  by* 
it,  and  the  just  gliding  through  untouched.  His  own  anti- 
cipations of  life  after  death,  seem  to  have  been  of  a  pure 
paradise,  and  a  joyful  dwelling  with  Christ.  He  has  in 
one  poem  a  fine  image  of  Satan  and  Death  listening 
astounded  to  the  song  of  the  angels  at  the  birth  of  Jesus : 
Satan  flies  into  the  wilderness,  and  Death  into  the  abyss. 

Then,  because  they  fled  from  Him, 
Jesus  track'd  them  to  their  lairs  ; 
Went  into  the  wilderness, 
Vanquishing  the  devil  there. 
To  the  depths  of  death  descending, 
There  o'ercame  the  might  of  death. 
Tnus  were  both  the  foes  led  captive 
Who  had  robb'd  our  race  of  hope. 
Therefore  blooms  sweet  hope  on  earth ; 
In  the  highest,  joy,  as  thence 
Came  the  angels  to  mankind 
With  the  tidings  of  great  joy. 

Such  are  some  specimens  of  the  sacred  singing  of 
Ephraem,  monk  of  Mesopotamia.  His  learning  might 
seem  foolishness  to  children  among  us,  and  his  theology 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  55 

may  fall  far  short  of  the  fulness  and  simplicity  of  the 
apostles'  teaching ;  but  his  heart  seems  to  have  been 
steeped  in  the  Gospel  histories;  and,  however  dim  might 
have  been  his  explanation  of  the  way  of  salvation,  in 
those  Gospels  he  surely  found  the  Saviour,  whom  not 
having  seen  he  loved,  and  in  whom  he  rejoiced  with  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  receiving  the  end  of  his 
faith,  even  the  salvation  of  his  soul. 

One  other  golden  saying  comes  from  the  heart  of  the 
old  singer  to  ours;  it  is  in  one  of  his  exhortations  in  the 
Church  services,  and  might  make  a  motto  for  many  an 
hour  of  united  or  secret  prayer:  "In  the  very  moment 
when  thou  prayest,  a  treasure  is  laid  up  for  thee  in 
heaven."  No  Christian  prayer  falls  back  from  the  closed 
gutes  of  heaven;  each  enters  there  like  a  messenger-dove; 
some  bring  back  immediate  visible  answers;  but  all  enrich 
our  store  of  blessings  there,  and  all  return  to  the  heart 
with  the  fragrance  of  peace  on  them  from  the  holy  place 
where  they  have  been.  And  if  Ephraem  the  Syrian 
writes  this  joyful  truth  deeper  on  our  hearts,  it  surely 
must  be  because  God  wrote  it  on  his  own. 

The  life  of  Gregory  of  Nazianzum  is  less  hidden  from 
us  than  that  of  Ephraem  Syrus.  He  appears  to  ^us  not  as 
a  mere  solitary,  but  as  a  son,  a  brother,  and  a  friend 
The  name  of  his  mother,  Nonna,  is  among  the  happy  list 
of  those  who  have  been  invested  with  woman's  sweetest 
dignity,  the  training  of  a  son  for  God.  Norma,  the 
mother  of  Gregory,  is  among  the  blessed  band  which 
includes  Anthusa,  the  early  widowed  mother  of  Chry- 
sostom,  and  Monica,  the  mother  of  Augustine,  patient  in 
hope  through  her  sons  many  wanderings.     On    Nonna 


56      CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

an  yther  great  honour  also  was  bestowed.  The  consistency 
of  her  piety,  and  the  influence  of  her  gentle,  loving, 
Christian  character,  led  her  husband  from  a  half-pagan 
sect  to  the  truth ;  after  which  he  became  bishop  of  Nazi- 
anzum  in  Cappadocia.  Gregory,  like  Samuel,  was  the 
child  of  many  prayers.  He  himself  compares  his  mother 
to  Hannah.  Soon  after  his  birth  he  was  taken  to  the 
altar,  and  there  solemnly  dedicated  to  God,  a  volume  of 
the  Gospels  being  laid  on  his  infant  hands,  in  token  of 
the  service  to  which  he  was  destined.  All  through  his 
childhood  and  youth,  the  light  of  his  mother's  piety  con- 
tinued to  shine  on  him.  We  hear  little  of  the  words  she 
said,  but  those  around  her  felt  that  her  faith  was  a  con- 
stant well-spring  of  joy.  Her  delight  in  meditating  on 
the  facts  of  our  redemption — on  the  birth,  and  death,  and 
resurrection  of  the  Lord — was  so  great,  that  on  a  festival- 
day,  whatever  her  anxieties  or  bodily  sufferings,  she  was 
never  known  to  be  sad  •  and  at  last  she  died  in  prayer 
before  the  altar.  Doubtless  her  influence  was  a  spell 
which  made  a  sacred  calm  around  Gregory  in  many  a 
storm  of  the  tumultuous  days  he  lived  in.  As  he  grew 
up,  he  pursued  his  studies  at  Alexandria,  and  afterwards 
at  Athens,  where  he  formed  a  close  friendship  with  Basil, 
a  student  from  his  own  province  of  Cappadocia.  They 
pursued  the  same  studies,  and,  in  looking  forward  to  life, 
their  dreams  and  projects  placed  them  always  side  by 
side.  The  profession  for  which  they  had  both  been  ori- 
ginally destined  was  rhetoric,  and  Athens  at  that  time 
was  still  a  stronghold  of  Paganism.  The  worship  of  the 
old  gods  lingered  around  their  ancient  temples,  and  the 
Emperor  Julian  was  a  fellow-student  with  Gregory  and 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZU1L  07 

Basil,  and  learned  his  heathenism  there.  Bat  on  both 
the  friends  had  rested  the  strong  influence  of  early  reli- 
gious training.  Basil  came  of  an  ancient  Christian  family, 
and  counted  among  his  ancestry  sufferers  for  the  faith. 
Like  Timothy,  the  faith  which  dwelt  in  him  had  first 
dwelt  in  his  mother  and  his  grandmother,  Emmelia  and 
Macrina.  A  pious  elder  sister  had  continued  the  same 
holy  influence  after  the  de^th  of  their  mother.  The  piety 
of  Gregory  and  Basil,  ascetic  as  it  became,  seems  never  to 
have  altogether  lost  the  softening  effect  of  those  healthy 
home  influences.  There  is  a  playfulness  and  life  about 
some  of  their  letters,  which  breathe  more  of  the  home 
than  the  monastery.  Together  they  formed  the  resolu- 
tion of  embracing  the  strictest  religious  life;  their  only 
hesitation  was  as  to  which  kind  of  monastic  rule  they 
should  adopt — that  of  the  solitary  hermit,  or  of  the  monks 
living  in  communities.  Neither  of  these,  however,  was 
immediately  adopted  by  Gregory,  who  returned  to  his 
father's  house,  acknowledging  the  call  of  filial  piety  to  be 
stronger  than  that  to  the  solitary  life;  a  decision  rare 
indeed  in  chronicles  of  monkish  saints. 

While  Basil  made  a  tour  among  the  societies  of  monks 
who  peopled  the  deserts  in  Egypt  and  Syria,  and  finally 
retired  to  a  mountain  solitude  in  Pontus,  Gregory  re- 
mained at  Nazianzum,  and  consented,  against  his  natural 
tastes,  to  become  his  fathers  associate  in  the  bishopric. 
Letters,  playfully  contrasting  the  advantages  of  solitary 
and  city  life,  passed  between  the  friends,  from  some  of 
which  it  would  seem  as  if  a  romantic  taste  for  natural 
beauty  mingled  with  asceticism  in  their  preference  for  a 
solitary  life.      Basil  endeavoured  to  draw  Gregory  to  join 


58  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPIIRAEM  SYRUS, 

him,  by  a  description  of  his  solitude,  more  like  that  of  a 
Robinson  Crusoe's  island  than  of  a  stern,  penitential  her- 
mitage. "  There  is  a  lofty  mountain,"  he  says,  "  covered 
with  thick  woods,  watered  towards  the  north  with  cool 
and  transparent  streams.  A  plain  lies  beneath,  enriched 
by  the  waters  which  are  ever  draining  off  upon  it,  and 
skirted  by  a  spontaneous  profusion  of  trees,  almost  thick 
enough  to  be  a  fence,  so  as  even  to  surpass  Calypso's 
island,  which  Homer  seems  to  have  thought  the  most 
beautiful  spot  on  earth.  Indeed,  it  is  like  an  island, 
inclosed  as  it  is  on  all  sides,  for  deep  hollows  cut  off  two 
sides  of  it;  the  river,  which  has  lately  fallen  down  a  pre- 
cipice, runs  along  the  front,  and  is  impassable  as  a  wall, 
while  the  mountain,  extending  itself  behind,  and  meeting 
the  hollows  in  a  crescent,  stops  up  the  path  at  its  roots. 
Behind  my  abode  there  is  another  gorge,  rising  into  a 
ledge  above,  so  as  to  command  the  extent  of  the  plain 
and  the  stream  which  bounds  it;  the  most  rapid  stream 
I  know  shooting  down  over  the  rocks,  and  eddying  in  a 
deep  pool,  an  inexhaustible  resource  to  the  country  people 
in  the  countless  fish  which  its  depths  contain."  Then  he 
goes  on  to  speak  of  the  multitude  of  flowers  and  singing- 
birds,  the  breezes  and  soft  mists,  the  deer  and  wild-goats, 
and  "  quietness,  the  sweetest  produce  of  all."  *  There 
for  a  time  Gregory  visited  Basil ;  and  a  happy,  Robinson 
Crusoe  life  the  friends  seem  to  have  led;  hewing  stones 
and  felling  trees  for  their  hermitage;  planting  vines  on 
the  hill-side;  resting  under  the  shadow  of  a  golden  plane; 
sweetening  the  toil  with  converse  full  of  playful  allusions 
to  their  college  studies;  sharpening  their  hearts  with  reli- 
*  Newman's  Church  of  the  Fathers. 


AXD  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  50 

gious  communion,  and  in  the  loving  study  of  the  Bible, 

"finding  light  with  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit."  With 
longing  heart  Gregory  afterwards  looked  back  to  those 
quiet  days  from  his  busy  city  life,  recalling,  above  all,  "  the 
psalmodies,  and  vigils,  and  departures  to  God  in  prayer." 
lie  was  not,  however,  to  be  enticed  by  any  such  delights 
from  the  home  of  his  aged  father  and  mother;  and  the 
sacrifice  he  thus  made  (calling  it,  perhaps,  a  weak  com- 
pliance) was  surely  dearer  to  God  than  the  sacrifice  he 
longed  to  make. 

Solitude,  however,  throughout  his  life  continued  his 
one  passion,  and  made  its  course  (as  Neander  says)  a  per- 
petual oscillation.  Driven  to  active  life  by  the  necessities 
of  the  times,  he  fled  to  his  beloved  retirement  whenever 
he  found  it  possible.  In  his  childhood  he  had  had  a 
dream,  in  which  he  saw  two  virgin  forms  clothed  in  fair 
white  raiment;  their  names  were  "Purity"  and  "So- 
briety," and  they  stood  by  Christ  the  King ;  they  offered, 
if  he  would  unite  his  mind  to  theirs,  to  carry  him  aloft 
to  heaven.  This  dream,  he  says,  lie  never  forgot;  a  high 
ideal  of  the  beauty  of  holiness  was  before  his  mind,  and,  ' 
after  the  fashion  of  his  times,  he  sought  it  in  the  solitude 
of  the  monastic  life.  God,  however,  (as  far  as  we  may 
interpret  His  will  by  His  providence,)  chose  otherwise  for 
him,  and  brought  him  back  again  and  again  to  the  tem- 
pestuous sea  of  life,  to  the  routine  of  daily  intercourse, 
and  the  monotonous  pressure  of  ecclesiastical  business. 
We,  in  the  distance,  and  with  better  light,  may  see  that 
the  true  discipline  was  in  the  life  appointed  for  him,  and 
that  the  ascetic  discipline  he  sought  would  have  been,  in 
comparison,  a  weakening  self-indulgence.     May  not  the 


60  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

lesson  teach  many  of  us  a  happy  submission,  when  our 
own  plans  and  visions  are  similarly  crossed? 

Gregory's  times  were  remarkably  unquiet :  struggles  of 
the  sharpest  kind  were  rending  both  the  Church  and  the 
world.  The  outward  attacks  of  Julian  the  Apostate  were, 
as  Gregory  himself  says,  almost  a  rest,  compared  with  the 
bitter  inward  strife  of  sects  and  heresies.  The  Nicene 
Creed  was  not  yet  fixed,  and  the  anatomy  of  the  countless 
heresies,  which  sprang  up  in  continually  fresh  combina- 
tions, might  occupy  a  lifetime  and  yet  teach  nothing. 
Besides  the  divisions  occasioned  by  doctrinal  differences, 
there  were  perplexing  schisms  between  the  partisans  of 
various  champions  of  the  same  doctrine;  so  that  any 
attempt  to  comprehend  and  remember  them  all  is  not 
merely  difficult  as  the  study  of  a  straightforward  natural 
science,  but  hopeless  as  the  attempt  to  learn  the  varying 
nomenclature  of  fashionable  horticulture.  Through  all 
these  perplexities,  Gregory  Nazianzen,  Basil  the  Great, 
and  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  the  three  Cappadocian  fathers,  had 
to  wind  their  way;  and  out  of  them  all,  by  means  of 
Basil's  brother,  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  has  been  evolved  for 
us  the  simple  doctrine  of  the  Nicene  Creed.  No  wonder 
that  Gregory  preferred  the  honest  conflict  with  the  wor- 
ship of  goddesses  and  idols,  to  such  subtle  dissections  of 
what  should  have  been  adored,  well-nigh  destroying  the 
life  of  the  true  doctrine  in  the  process  of  separating  it 
from  the  false.  No  wonder  that  good  men  turned  with  a 
rebounding  of  the  heart  from  the  quarrels  of  Arians,  Semi- 
Arians,  Apollinarians,  Eustathians,  and  Meletians,  to 
quiet  mountain  solitude  and  healthy  bodily  toil,  noctur- 
nal  psalmodies,   and   departures   of  the   heart   to   God. 


AXD  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  Gl 

Gregory  of  Nazianzum's  last  voyage  into  the  tempestuous 
sea  he  so  much  dreaded,  was  a  glorious  one.  At  fifty 
years  of  age  he  was  called  to  Constantinople,  to  stem  the 
torrent  of  Arianism  there.  The  house  of  one  of  his  rela- 
tives was  opened  to  him  as  a  place  of  worship,  all  the 
churches  being  in  Arian  hands.  Under  the  Arian  Em- 
peror Valens,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  populace  fanatically 
opposed  to  the  ancient  faith,  he  preached  the  absolute 
Deity  of  Christ,  and  sought  to  bring  home  the  truth  to 
the  hearts  as  well  as  the  intellects  of  his  hearers.  He 
was  pelted  by  the  mob,  and  persecuted  by  the  higher 
classes,  and  with  difficulty  obtained  an  acquittal  from  the 
tribunal  before  which  he  was  brought  on  the  charge  of 
occasioning  a  riot.  But  he  preached  on,  his  audience 
increased,  the  house  in  which  they  met  was  converted 
into  a  church;  and  to  that  church,  when  the  victory  was 
at  length  gained,  was  given  the  name  of  Anastasia,  as  the 
place  of  resurrection  of  the  truth.  On  the  accession  of 
the  orthodox  Theodosius,  Gregory  was  chosen  Patriarch 
of  Constantinople ;  but,  difficulties  arising  about  the  ap- 
pointment, he  resigned,  and  once  more  retired  from  public 
life.  His  father  and  mother,  his  brother  and  sister,  were 
all  dead,  and  his  retirement  seems  to  have  been  unbroken ; 
and  eight  years  afterwards — nine  years  after  the  death  of 
his  friend  Basil — Gregory  of  Nazianzum  died. 

The  friendship  of  Gregory  and  Basil  was  not  uninter- 
rupted. It  must  be  useless  in  these  days  to  attempt  to 
find  out  the  causes  of  differences  which,  probably,  neither 
their  contemporaries  nor  themselves  fully  understood. 
As  with  Paul  and  Barnabas,  their  reconciliation  is  not 
narrated  to  us.     Probably  in  this  life  the  broken  links  were 


62  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPIIHAEM  SYKUS, 

never  re-knit;  but  Gregory  preached  Basil's  funeral  eulogy; 
and  we  must  believe  that  the  division  has  long  since  been 
healed,  by  one  touch  of  that  Hand  which  was  pierced  for 
both.  That,  with  all  the  other  tumults  of  their  lives,  has 
passed  away :  the  discord  into  which  their  happy  union 
fell  has  ages  since  been  drawn  up  into  a  higher  harmony. 
The  work  they  tried  to  do  for  God  has  surely  not  been 
forgotten ;  and  the  great  work  Christ  did  for  them  has, 
we  trust,  blotted  out  all  the  rest.  For,  as  Basil  said, 
"  This  is  the  perfect  and  absolute  glorying  in  God,  when 
a  man  is  not  elated  by  his  own  righteousness,  but  knows 
himself  to  be  wanting  in  true  righteousness,  and  justified 
by  faith  alone,  which  is  in  Christ." 

It  was  through  the  labours,  and  conflicts,  and  perplexi- 
ties of  such  a  life  as  this,  that  Gregory  wrote  his  hymns. 
From  the  midst  of  his  work  in  the  world,  as  well  as  in 
the  quiet  of  his  beloved  solitude,  doubtless  his  heart  often 
"departed  to  God"  on  the  wings  of  praise.  He  is  said 
to  be  rhetorical  and  over-laboured  in  his  writings;  but 
the  following  lines  are  chosen,  like  all  the  rest  in  this 
\olume,  as  utterances  of  the  Christian  life,  not  as  speci- 
mens of  poetical  power,  or  testimonies  for  any  peculiar 
ecclesiastical  theories : — 

HYMN  TO   CHRIST. 

Hear  us  now,  Eternal  Monarch, 
Grant  us  now  to  hymn  and  praise  Thee — 
Thee  the  King,  and  Thee  the  Master ! 
By  whom  are  our  hymns  and  praises, 
By  whom  are  the  choirs  of  angels, 
By  whom  flow  the  ceaseless  ages, 
By  whom  on'y  s' lines  the  sim, 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  C3 

By  whom  walks  the  moon  in  brightness. 
By  whom  smile  the  stars  in  beauty, 
By  whom  all  the  race  of  mortals 
Have  received  their  godlike  reason, 

And  thine  other  works  outshone. 
Thou  the  universe  creatcdst, 

Hast  to  each  his  place  decreed, 
Constituting  all  in  wisdom  ; 

And  Thy  word,  Lord,  was  a  deed. 
For  Thy  word,  Son  of  the  Highest, 
In  essential  might  and  glory, 
Equals  that  of  God  the  Father, 

Who  creates  and  reigns  o'er  all; 
Whilst  the  Spirit  all  embraceth, 
All  preserving,  all  providing  : 

Triune  God,  on  Thee  we  call. 

Thou,  the  one  and  only  Monarch, 
In  Thy  nature  changeless,  endless, 
Of  unutterable  glory, 
Inaccessible  in  wisdom, 
Never- wearied  strength  of  heaven, 
Infinite,  without  beginning, 

High  in  unapproached  light ; 
All  with  sleepless  eye  observing, 
Not  a  depth  Thy  glance  escape th, 
From  the  earth  to  the  abysses, 

Deepest  deep  or  highest  height : 

Wheresoe'er  my  lot  may  be, 

Grant  me  thus  to  worship  Thee. 
Cleanse  me,  Lord,  from  my  transgression, 
Purge  me  from  an  evil  conscience, 
That  Thy  Godhead  I  may  honour; 
Holy  hands  in  praise  uplifting, 

Blessing  Christ  on  bended  knee. 


64  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

Own  me,  then,  at  last  Thy  servant, 

When  Thou  com'st  in  majesty. 
Be  to  me  a  pitying  Father, 
Let  me  find  Thy  grace  and  mercy; 
And  to  Thee  all  praise  and  glory 

Through  the  endless  ages  be. 

After  the  weary  toil  of  the  day,  and  the  strife  of 
tongues,  Gregory's  spirit  thus  fled  to  the  secret  taber- 
nacle, into  which  the  empty  noises  of  earth  cannot  pene- 
trate, the  pavilion  of  the  presence  of  God  : — 

EVENING  HYMN. 

Christ,  my  Lord,  I  come  to  bless  Thee, 
Now  when  day  is  veil'd  in  night ; 

Thou  who  knowest  no  beginning, 
Light  of  the  Eternal  Light. 

Thou  the  darkness  hast  dissolved, 
And  the  outward  light  created, 

That  all  things  in  light  might  be ; 
Fixing  the  unfixed  chaos, 
Moulding  it  to  wondrous  beauty, 

Into  the  fair  world  we  see. 

Thou  enlightenest  man  with  reason, 

Far  beyond  the  creatures  dumb, 
That  light  in  Thy  light  beholding, 

Wholly  light  he  might  become. 

Thou  hast  set  the  radiant  heavens 
With  Thy  many  lamps  of  brightness, 

Filling  all  the  vaults  above, 
Day  and  night  in  turn  subjecting 
To  a  brotherhood  of  service 

And  a  mutual  law  of  love. 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  65 

By  the  night  our  wearied  nature 

Resting  from  its  toil  and  tears  ; 
To  the  works,  Lord,  that  Thou  lovest, 

Waking  us  when  day  appears. 

Again,  in  another  hymn  to  Christ,  his  soul  flees  with 
its  burden  of  sins  direct  to  that  Refuge,  where  the  weary 
and  heavy  laden  find  rest.  Some  of  its  expressions  of 
deep  self-despair  and  trembling- trust  may  be  thus  ren- 
dered : — 

Unfruitful,  sinful,  bearing  weeds  and  thorns, 
Fruits  of  the  curse,  ah !  whither  shall  I  flee  ? 

O  Christ,  most  blessed,  bid  my  fleeting  days 

Flow  heavenward — Christ,  sole  fount  of  hope  to  me. 

The  enemy  is  near — to  Thee  I  cling — 

Strengthen,  oh  strengthen  me  by  might  Divine  ; 

Let  not  the  trembling  bird  be  from  Thine  altar  driven — 
Save  me,  it  is  Thy  will,  0  Christ — save  me,  for  I  am  Thine. 

One  other  hymn  of  Gregory's  may  be  given,  at  least  in 
part.  It  is  a  voice  from  those  eight  years  which  he  spent 
in  retirement.  When  his  work  was  done,  the  Church  of 
the  Anastasia  had  arisen,  and  father,  mother,  brother, 
and  sister,  all  were  dead.  In  the  depths  of  its  natural 
fears,  and  the  firmness  of  the  hope  to  which  at  last  it 
rises,  it  tells  the  history  of  those  solitary  years,  and  echoes 
well  the  music  of  those  ancient  psalms,  which  soar  so 
often  "  out  of  the  -depths"  into  the  light  of  God. 

TO  HIMSELF. 

Where  are  the  wing'd  words  1     Lost  in  the  air. 
Where  the  fresh  flower  of  youth  and  glory?     Gone. 


66  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

The  strength  of  well-knit  limbs  ?     Brought  low  by  care. 

Wealth  ?     Plunder'd  ;  none  possess  but  God  alone. 
Where  those  dear  parents  who  my  life  first  gave, 
And  where  that  holy  twain,  brother  and  sister  1    In  the 
grave. 

My  fatherland  alone  to  me  is  left, 

And  heaving  factions  flood  my  country  o'er ; 

Thus,  with  uncertain  steps,  of  all  bereft, 
Exiled  and  homeless,  childless,  aged,  poor, 

No  child  mine  age  to  soothe  with  service  sweet, 

I  live  from  day  to  day  with  ever-wandering  feet. 

What  lies  before  me  1    Where  shall  set  my  day  ? 

Where  shall  these  weary  limbs  at  length  repose  ? 
What  hospitable  tomb  receive  my  clay  ? 

What  hands  at  last  my  failing  eyes  shall  close  ? 
What  eyes  will  watch  me? — Eyes  with  pity  fraught  ? 
Some  friend  of  Christ  ?     Or  those  who  know  Him  not  ? 

Or  shall  no  tomb,  as  in  a  casket,  lock 

This  frame,  when  laid  a  weight  of  breathless  clay  ? 
Cast  forth  unburied  on  the  desert  rock, 

Or  thrown  in  scorn  to  birds  and  beasts  of  prey; 
Consumed  and  cast  in  handfuls  on  the  air, 
Left  in  some  river-bed  to  perish  there  ? 

This  as  Thou  wilt,  the  Day  will  all  unite 
Wherever  scatter'd,  when  Thy  word  is  said : 

Rivers  of  fire,  abysses  without  light, 

Thy  great  tribunal,  these  alone  are  dread. 

And  Thou,  0  Christ,  my  King,  art  fatherland  to  me, 

Strength,  wealth,  eternal  rest,  yea,  all  I  find  in  Thee  ! 

Thus,  in  the  old  Ionic  tongue,  the  wail  of  feeble  mor- 
tality went  forth  once  more,  but  with  a  close  the  old 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZTJM:.  G7 

Tonic  music  never  knew;  for  Christ  had  died,  and  risen 
From  the  dead,  and  the  other  world  was  a  region  of  me- 
lancholy shades  no  longer,  for  He  is  there. 

No  wonder  that  when  that  chord  of  hope  had  once 
been  struck,  no  effort  'of  an  apostate  emperor,  no  refine- 
ment of  pagan  art  or  philosophy,  could  silence  it;  for, 
with  all  its  beauty,  if  the  old  music  once  ceased  to  be 
Bacchanalian,  what  could  it  end  in  but  a  death  wail  1 

A  few  more  Christian  hymns  reach  us  from  the  East, 
lingering  on  even  after  the  religion  of  Mohammed  had 
started  on  its  fiery  course,  beginning  in  the  devastation  ot 
a  flood  of  fire,  and  ending  in  its  ashes,  knowing  no 
sacred  music  but  the  battle  cry  and  the  funeral  wail. 
About  the  sacred  poems  of  Cosmas  the  Hierosolymite, 
there  is  a  majestic  music.  They  seem  to  march  solemnly, 
is  if  in  battle  array,  recurring  at  intervals  to  a  grand 
refrain,  as  if  meant  to  be  taken  up  in  chorus.  The  words 
ire  such  as  these.  In  a  hymn  on  the  Nativity,  the  cho- 
ral words  recur  continually  : — 

That  He  might  be  glorified. 

Then  again — 

Glory  to  thy  power,  0  Lord, — 

God  of  our  fathers,  blessed  art  ThoiL 

Again — 

Let  all  creation  bless  the  Lord, 

And  glorify  Thy  name  from  age  to  age. 

In  a  hymn  on  the  Epiphany  the  varying  refrains  are — 
That  He  might  be  glorified. 

Then  at  regular  intervals — 

For  Thou  art  Christ,  wisdom  and  power  of  God. 


68  CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYRUS, 

And  again — 

Peace,  passing  understanding,  Thou  bestowest. 
And — 

Spare  Thou  our  souls  and  save  us,  Christ  our  God. 
It  is  difficult  to  give  the  music  of  these  recurring  strains 
in  a  translation,  and  the  hymns  are  long ;  but  the  effect 
must  surely  have  been  very  impressive,  and  one  would 
like  to  know  the  music  to  which  they  were  sung,  unless 
indeed  the  measure  was  the  music.  Andrew  of  Crete, 
and  John  the  Damascene,  continued  yet  further  to  pro- 
long the  song  of  the  Eastern  Church,  whilst  the  terrible 
flood  wTas  gathering  in  Arabia,  which  was  so  soon  to  sweep 
over  Christendom,  and  altogether  to  desolate  and  sub- 
merge its  Eastern  half.  But  before  that  sacred  music  was 
silenced,  its  tone  had  long  begun  to  ring  less  clear.  In- 
vocations to  the  Mother  of  God,  "  the  all-holy,"  crowd 
thicker  and  thicker  on  those  later  hymns;  and  if  Moham- 
medanism had  not  broken  all  the  strings  at  once,  there 
seems  a  danger  that  they  would  have  fallen  of  themselves 
into  more  and  more  jarring  discord.  Perhaps  the  very 
agony  of  that  great  desolation  tuned  many  a  heart  to  a 
music  it  had  not  known  before. 

Some  things  may  be  deficient  in  these  early  Oriental 
hymns;  we  might  wish  to  seo  ihe  cross  and  redeem- 
ing death  of  Christ  their  great  theme,  as  it  was  St 
Paul's  ;  but  until  the  fourth  century,  we  must  remember, 
the  Christian  Church  was  singing  her  song  in  the  midst 
of  a  heathen  world.  Her  enemies  knew  that  she  wor- 
shipped One  who  had  been  crucified ;  and  while  she 
boldly  confessed  the  fact,  and  contentedly  endured  all  the 
scorn  it  drew  on  her,  her  natural  desire  was  to  honour, 


AND  GREGORY  OF  NAZIANZUM.  G9 

with  every  venerable  title,  Him  whom  the  world  thus 
rejected  and  despised.  Jew  and  Gentile  knew  that  Jesus 
had  been  crucified  :  the  Church  knew  that  He  had  risen, 
and  was  indeed  Christ  the  King.  It  is,  perhaps,  there- 
fore natural  that  the  earliest  hymns  should  have  dwelt 
rather  on  the  glories  visible  only  to  faith,  than  on  the 
humiliation  which  was  evident  to  the  eye  of  flesh. 

It  is  in  contrasting  the  early  Christian  hymns  with 
heathen  poetry,  that  their  beauty  and  truth  would  pro- 
bably be  most  manifest.  The  eye  that  could  bear  to  look 
at  death,  because  looking  through  it,  the  gaze  into  the 
spiritual  world,  the  hope  and  love  and  peace,  and  above 
all,  the  adoring,  trusting  contemplation  of  that  Glorious 
Person,  divine  and  human,  who  had  so  lately  come  to 
earth,  and  so  lately  left  it — it  is  this  which  gives  their 
beauty  to  the  Oriental  hymns.  They  are  full  of  that 
living  Saviour,  Jesus,  son  of  Mary  and  Son  of  God ;  the 
Almighty  God  stooping  for  our  sakes  to  become  the  infant 
of  days,  hymned  by  angels,  and  worshipped  by  magi  and 
shepherds ;  the  Lamb  of  God  taking  aw^ay  the  sin  of  the 
world  ;  the  suffering  Redeemer  stretching  His  hands  on 
the  cross  to  rescue  the  lost,  by  the  cross  recovering  what 
Adam  had  forfeited;  the  mighty  Yictor,  by  death  tramp- 
ling on  death,  and  by  His  resurrection  opening  to  us 
the  gates  of  life — now  ascended  in  triumph  to  heaven,  yet 
undivided  from  His  own;  merciful,  holy,  loving  Man, 
Friend,  Master,  King,  Saviour,  Redeeming  Sufferer,  In- 
finite and  Omnipotent  Son  of  God. 

These  hymns  may  not  be  so  full  and  elaborate  in  doc- 
trine as  many  that  we  know,  but  Christ  is  in  them ;  they 
are  inspired  by  Him,  they  are  sung  to  Him;  they  preach 


70         CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  EPHRAEM  SYEUS,  ETC. 

not  themselves,  but  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  ;  and  if,  like 
birds  at  the  dawn,  all  their  music  reaches  only  this  one 
strain,  "  The  Sun  has  risen,"  is  it  not  enough  1  For  all 
other  truths  shine  only  in  the  light  of  this  truth,  and  all 
other  true  joys  flow  only  from  this  fountain.  The  Sun 
will  bring  the  summer.  No  wonder  that  when  first  that 
Sun  arose,  the  disciples  could  say  little  to  one  another, 
but  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed." 


CHAPTER    V. 

ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

We  have  now  reached  a  third  stage  in  the  history  of 
Christian  hymns.  The  inspired  songs,  recorded  by  in- 
spired men,  were  succeeded  by  uninspired  hymns,  most 
precious  to  us  as  the  record  of  the  utterance  of  the  Chris- 
tian life  of  early  times,  though  as  authoritative  founda- 
tions of  faith  not  more  valuable  than  the  hymns  of  Luther 
or  George  Herbert.  Yet  the  language  remained  the 
same  as  that  of  the  inspired  books.  The  hosannas  of 
Ephraem  the  Syrian  had  the  sound  as  well  as  the  sense 
of  those  of  the  children  of  Jerusalem,  and  both  were  sung 
in  a  dialect  kindred  to  that  in  which  Israel  first  chanted 
the  song  of  Moses,  bv  the  Hed  Sea.  Clement  of  Alexan- 
dria,  Gregory  of  .Nazianzum,  and  the  unknown  earliest 
singers  of  the  Oriental  Churches,  thought  in  the  very 
words  of  evangelists  and  apostles;  the  phrases  of  the  ISTew 
Testament  were  literally  their  household  words.  Sacred 
song  had  not  yet  passed  away  from  the  two  original  sacred 
languages  ;  but  now  a  new  language  was  to  be  conse- 
crated. The  stream  of  psalmody  was  to  flow  from  the 
tongue  of  Homer,  Plato,  and  the  New  Testament,  into 
that  of  Virgil,  Cicero,  and  the  Vulgate ;  the  ecclesiastical 


72  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBKOSIAN  HYMNS. 

language  of  so  many  centuries  had  to  be  moulded  out  of 
the  sonorous  old  Roman  speech. 

The  Latin  hymns  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries 
form  quite  a  distinct  school.  They  stand  between  the 
old  world  and  the  new;  between  the  refinements  of  the 
ancient  classical  literature,  and  those  who  only  knew 
Latin  as  an  ecclesiastical  or  foreign  language;  between 
Greek  and  Gothic  art;  between  the  ancient  Pagan  civili- 
sation, and  that  new  Christian  civilisation  which  was  to 
rise  at  length  to  light  after  its  long  underground  course 
in  the -middle  ages.  Their  form  links  them  with  the  old, 
and  their  substance  with  the  new  dynasty.  They  cling 
to  the  old  rhythm,  although  in  its  least  elaborate  shape, 
and  never  descend  to  the  barbarism  of  rhyme. 

They  are,  perhaps,  deficient  in  some  qualities  which 
severally  shine  in  earlier  and  later  Christian  poetry. 
Compared  with  those  of  the  Greek  Church,  they  read 
rather  like  translations.  And  in  a  sense  are  they  not 
translations  ?  The  wonderful  flexibility  of  the  Greek 
language  adapted  itself  at  once  to  the  new  flood  of 
thought  which  had  to  pass  into  it.  The  delicacy  of  its 
subtle  shades  of  meaning ;  the  thunder  and  lightning  of 
those  single  words  which  flash  the  power  of  a  sentence  on 
you  in  a  moment,  condensing  the  force  of  a  phrase  on  a 
point;  its  endless  reproductive  faculty; — all  these  had  been 
fused  for  centuries  in  the  furnace  of  democratic  assemblies, 
delicately  chiselled  by  the  subtlest  philosophical  intellects, 
fitted  for  every-clay  purposes  by  the  constant  use  of  a 
witty,  lively,  highly-educated  people,  when  at  length  the 
men  came  who  were  to  wield  the  perfect  weapon  for  God 
and  humanity.     And  the  process  of  preparation  was  com- 


EASTERN  AND  WESTERN  HYMNS.  73 

pleted  by  the  Divine  hand.  The  truths  of  Christianity 
flowed  for  the  first  time,  in  Greek,  from  inspired  lips. 

With  Latin  it  was  quite  different.  The  mighty  new 
thought  had  to  be  fitted  into  the  comparatively  stiff  and 
narrow  mould  of  Roman  speech,  and  the  hands  which 
were  to  accomplish  the  work  were  not  those  of  apostles 
and  evangelists. 

Again,  in  comparing  the  early  Latin  hymns  with  those 
of  the  middle  ages,  there  is  perhaps  one  disadvantage  on 
the  side  of  the  earlier.  In  the  days  of  Ambrose,  the  lan- 
guage had  not  gathered  around  it  the  spiritual  and  eccle- 
siastical associations  of  centuries.  It  had  to  come  into 
the  church  fresh  from  the  market,  the  battle-field,  or  the 
court  of  justice,  with  no  sacred  laver  of  inspiration  to 
baptize  it  from  the  stains  and  dust  of  secular  or  sinful 
employment. 

Yet  there  is  a  calm  and  steady  glow  in  these  early 
Latin  hymns,  a  straightforward  plainness  of  speech,  and 
an  unconscious  force,  which  grow  on  you  wonderfully  as 
you  become  more  acquainted  with  them.  If  they  have 
not  the  sublime  simplicity  of  a  faith  which  sees  visions, 
and  leaves  it  to  fancy  to  scatter  flowers,  or  the  fervency 
of  an  outburst  of  solitary  devotion, — the  regular  beauty  of 
Greek  art,  or  the  imagination  and  homelv  pathos  of 
Teutonic  sacred  ballads, — they  have  a  Roman  majesty  of 
their  own,  the  majesty  of  a  national  anthem,  the  sub- 
dued fire  of  the  battle-song  of  a  disciplined  army.  The 
imperial  dignity  of  the  great  language  of  law  and  of  war 
has  passed  into  them  ;  they  are  the  grand  national  anthems 
of  the  Church  militant,  and  their  practical  plainness, 
their  healthy  objective  life,  are  bracing  as  mountain  air. 


74  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

Four  names  are  especially  associated  with  the  Latin 
hymnology  of  what  may  be  called  the  Ambrosian  period ; 
those  of  Ambrose,  Augustine,  Hilary,  and  Prudentius. 
Of  these,  the  two  latter  are  very  shadowy  beings  to  us, 
scarcely,  indeed,  more  than  names  on  the  title-pages  of 
their  works. 

There  were  three  Hilarys  who  flourished  within  seventy 
years  of  each  other:  Hilary,  a  deacon  at  Rome,  born  in 
Sardinia,  a.d.  354;  Hilary  of  Poictiers,  who  died  about 
a.d.  366,  to  whose  personal  and  literary  influence  ISeander 
assigns  a  large  space  in  the  history  of  his  times  ;  and 
Hilary  of  Aries,  a  canonised  saint  of  the  Roman  calendar, 
who  was  born  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixth  century. 
The  three  Hilarys  were  strenuous  opponents  of  Arian- 
ism;  all  wrote  against  it,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  diffi- 
culty in  distributing  to  each  his  due  share  of  literary 
honour.  The  Hilary  who  wrote  the  hymns  was  the 
canonised  bishop  of  Aries.  Born  early  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, he  appears  to  have  lived  a  long  life  in  a  short  time. 
He  was  an  author  from  his  youth,  in  his  prime  a  popular 
preacher  and  bishop  of  the  old  Greek  commercial  colony 
of  Aries,  in  Provence.  He  wrote  some  theological  works, 
presided  at  a  council,  and  died  at  the  age  of  forty-nine, 
with  a  reputation  which  has  made  it  seem  natural  to 
attribute  to  him  one  of  the  three  great  Creeds,  and  one  of 
the  three  great  Hymns  of  the  Church;  the  Athanasian 
Creed  and  the  "Te  Deum."  But,  shadowy  as  the  form  is 
to  us,  the  voice  is  clear;  another  "  voice  crying  in  the 
wilderness,"  and  proclaiming  the  glory  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Prudentius  is  supposed  to  have  Icon  born  in  Spain 
about  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century.     He  filled  im- 


PRUDENTIUS.  75 

portant  judicial  and  military  posts  under  the  Emperor 
Honorius  \  but  at  the  age  of  fifty-seven,  repenting  of  the 
sinfulness  of  his  previous  life,  and  weary  of  its  emptiness, 
he  is  said  to  have  arisen  to  new  aims,  and  dedicated  him- 
self, with  all  his  powers  and  possessions,  as  best  he  knew, 
to  God.  He  was  a  Christian  literary  man,  and  perhaps 
rather  an  author  of  religious  poems  than  simply  a  hymn 
writer.  One  of  his  books  has  a  significant  title — "  The 
War  of  the  Soul."  Those  verses  of  his  given  in  Daniel's 
"  Thesaurus"  are  extracted  from  longer  poems.  The 
date  of  his  death  is  not  known. 

With  Ambrose  and  Augustine  the  case  is  different. 
Ambrose  stands  before  us  in  himself  a  complete  histori- 
cal picture,  a  representative  portrait  of  his  times,  al- 
though revealed  to'  us  rather  as  an  historical  personage 
than  as  a  man  and  a  brother  in  the  great  Christian 
family. 

Augustine's  spiritual  history  has  probably  had  more 
influence  on  the  Christian  life  of  fifteen  centuries,  than 
the  history  of  any  other  human  being  except  St  Paul. 
He  is  one  of  the  very  few  men  of  past  times  whose  heart 
we  seem  to  know;  whose  writings  are  not  preached  to 
us  from  the  pulpit  of  history,  but  spoken  in  the  voice  of 
a  friend. 

The  biographies  of  Ambrose  and  Augustine  might  be 
combined  into  a  complete  compendium  of  the  ecclesiastical 
history  of  their  times,  the  one  reflecting  its  more  external 
features,  and  the  other  its  inward  spiritual  conflicts;  Am- 
brose representing  the  relations  between  church  and  state, 
bishops  and  emperors,  and  Augustine  the  relation  between 
the  soul  and  truth. 


76  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

In  one  sense,  all  periods  are  periods  of  transition ;  no 
social  forms  can  be  permanent;  and  when  men  imagine 
a  point  attained,  and  a  fixed  state  of  law  and  society 
reached,  even  while  they  contemplate  their  work  it  is 
changing  into  something  else.  The  fourth  century  was 
peculiarly  and  visibly  an  age  of  transition.  The  new 
Gothic  element  had  appeared  in  the  world,  and  it  had 
yet  to  be  proved  whether  the  strong  northern  races  would 
be  smoothed  down  and  fitted  into  the  old  imperial  polity, 
or  whether  they  would  spread  and  prevail,  until  the  relics 
of  the  former  civilisation  would  be  glad  to  shelter  them- 
selves under  their  broad  shadow.  All  kinds  of  hetero- 
geneous materials  lay  unshapen  beside  each  other  in  those 
days.  Whilst  the  clergy  and  even  the  mobs  of  the  East 
were  disputing  about  the  minutest  distinctions  of  the 
Christian  creed,  and  the  banner  of  the  Cross  had  become 
the  standard  of  the  empire,  the  Roman  senate  was  still 
holding  its  shadowy  sessions,  under  the  tutelage  of  the 
goddess  of  Victory.  It  was  not  till  the  latter  half  of  the 
century  that  the  old  Pagan  rites  were  discontinued  as  a 
part  of  state  ceremonies,  although  Paganism  must  long 
have  ceased  to  be  a  national  faith,  and  had,  probably,  as 
little  to  do  with  the  religion  of  the  people  of  Home  then, 
as  the  Lord  Mayor's  Show  with  the  civil  or  commercial 
rights  of  England  now.  The  ghost  of  the  old  Poman 
senate  and  the  ghost  of  the  old  Poman  religion  found 
a  fitting  companionship  in  each  other. 

Temples  still  stood,  relics  of  ancient  art,  and  perhaps, 
in  great  anxieties,  still  the  refuge  of  some  passionate 
hearts,  who  would  fain  rend  their  requests  from  Heaven; 
but  the  monks  and  the  populace  were  rapidly  sweep 


ST  AMBROSE.  77 

them  away.  Yet,  unhappily,  the  old  idolatry  had  not 
passed  away.  Those  who  sought  from  Heaven  merely  the 
fulfilment  of  earthly  wishes,  were  provided  with  a  host  of 
intercessors  and  mediators,  already  scarcely  less  numerous 
than  the  dwellers  on  Olympus.  The  sacred  dust  of  mar- 
tyrs was  no  longer  suffered  to  rest  in  peace  till  the  re- 
surrection, but,  as  Yigilantius  complained,  and  Jerome 
angrily  admitted,  was  carried  reverently  about  in  little 
urns.  So  little  did  some  who  bore  the  name  of  Christ 
apprehend  His  love,  that  they  deemed  the  lifeless  remains 
of  His  disciples  a  surer  safeguard  than  His  living  provi- 
dence, perhaps  even  (unconsciously)  a  shield  against  His 
purposes. 

Meantime  the  Arian  controversy  raged  fiercely  in  the 
East  and  West.  The  Gothic  soldiers,  who  had  been  in- 
troduced into  the  imperial  armies  and  palaces,  whatever 
they  knew  of  the  subject,  warmly  espoused  the  quarrel. 
[f  they  could  not  reason,  at  least  they  could  fight;  and 
thus  claim  their  share  in  the  Church  history  of  the  times. 

Monastic  rules  were  ever  more  and  more  displacing 
family  ties.  The  course  of  Christian  life  was  in  too  many 
instances  stiffened  from  the  river  into  the  canal,  flowing, 
not  amidst  fruitful  meadows,  which  it  fertilised,  but  be- 
tween rigid  stone  walls,  which  it  could  only  wear  away; 
and  too  often  it  was  ponded  back  into  stagnant  isolation. 
From  such  monastic  retirement  came,  indeed,  at  times, 
fervent  hymns,  such  as  those  of  Gregory  Xazianzen ; 
tender,  childlike  poems,  such  as  those  of  Ephraem  Syrus; 
and  works  of  universal  beneficence,  such  as  Jeromes 
Vulgate.  Doubtless,  also,  many  a  shipwrecked  heart 
found  a  haven  there,  and  many  a  child,  orphaned  by  war, 


78  ST  AMRROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

shelter  and  care.  For  when  God  gives  eternal  life  it  is 
strong,  and  struggles  through  inconceivable  obstacles  to 
fulfil  its  work  of  blessing. 

In  the  midst  of  such  an  age  as  this,  Ambrose  of  Milan 
grew  to  manhood.  He  was  of  a  noble  Roman  family,  in 
days  when  the  patricians  of  Rome  still  traced  back  their 
pedigree  to  times  before  the  Caesars.  His  father  was  pre- 
fect of  Gaul,  and  Treves  and  Aries  contend  for  the  honour 
of  being  his  birth-place.  Before  the  age  of  thirty,  he  him- 
self became  Consular  of  Liguria,  and  resided  at  the  impe- 
rial city  of  Milan.  Ecclesiastical  honours  could  scarcely, 
therefore,  to  him  have  been  objects  of  secular  ambition, 
however  he  may  have  esteemed  them  as  weapons  of  spiri- 
tual warfare. 

The  circumstances  which  led  to  his  appointment  to  the 
bishopric  of  Milan  throw  a  strange  light  on  many  ques- 
tions of  Church  history.  The  long  contest  for  supremacy 
between  the  clergy  and  the  empire  had  hardly  yet  com- 
menced ;  and  when  Auxentius,  the  Arian  bishop  of  Milan, 
died,  the  citizens  of  Milan  and  the  Emperor  Valentinian 
the  First  endeavoured  to  throw  on  each  other  the  peril- 
ous responsibility  of  choosing  his  successor.  The  per- 
plexing privilege  reverted  finally  to  the  people.  The  city 
was  thrown  into  tumult,  and  the  cathedral  was  filled 
by  a -noisy  and  excited  multitude.  In  the  midst  of  the 
storm  Ambrose  appeared  as  civil  governor,  and  com- 
manded peace.  In  the  temporary  lull  which  followed 
his  entrance,  a  child's  voice  arose,  shouting  "  Ambrose  is 
bishop  !"  The  whole  multitude,  seized  by  a  sudden  sym- 
pathetic impulse,  responded  "  Ambrose  is  bishop  !  Am- 
brose is  bishop  !"     And  so,  after  some  weeks  of  hesitation 


ST  AM  B  HOSE.  7d 

and  resistance,  Ambrose  was  bishop.  To  Ambrose  the 
episcopate  was  no  haven  of  repose,  but  a  sphere  of  ear- 
nest conflict  for  truth  and  right.  In  the  two  great  con- 
tests with  the  imperial  court  which  signalise  his  life, 
the  people  were  heartily  with  him. 

His  first  conflict  was  for  truth ;  for  the  preservation  of 
the  Catholic  Creed  against  the  Arians.  He  refused  to 
yield  up  the  Portian  Basilica  to  the  Empress  Justina  for 
the  use  of  the  Arians.  The  churches,  he  said,  were  not 
the  bishop's,  but  Christ's,  and  the  bishop,  as  His  steward, 
could  not  relinquish  them  without  treachery,  to  those 
who  denied  His  Deity.  He  said,  and  no  doubt  he  felt, 
it  was  better  for  him  to  be  deposed  or  put  to  death.  He 
would  use  no  earthly  weapons.  Excommunication  he 
believed  to  be  a  spiritual  weapon,  and  he  launched  it  at 
the  soldiers  who  should  dare  to  seize  the  building.  Pas- 
sive resistance  he  deemed  it  right  to  carry  to  the  utmost 
extent.  The  mass  of  the  people  of  Milan,  rich  and  poor, 
were  strongly  opposed  to  Arianism,  and  at  length  they 
took  possession  of  the  disputed  basilica  and  the  range  of 
buildings  connected  with  it,  by  quietly  filling  them. 
The  imperial  troops  besieged  them  there  during  many 
days,  making  no  attack,  but  not  suffering  any  to  leave  the 
church,  hoping  to  exhaust  the  patience  of  which  crowds 
have  usually  such  a  scanty  stock.  Then  first,  it  is  said, 
was  introduced  into  the  Western  Church  the  responsive 
chanting  of  hymns  long  prevalent  in  the  Eastern  Churches, 
used  by  Chrysostom  during  vigils,  and  by  the  Christians 
of  Antioch  as  a  weapon  against  heresy.  The  hymns  of 
Ambrose  resounded  through  the  basilica,  and  the  city 
was  his  choir. 


N     '  had  long  bean  familiar  to  the 

Milan.      Ami h    -     says   in  one  of  his  sermons. 
w  They   say  the  people   are  misled  by  the  verses  of  my 

sals         Truly  they  have  in 

a  high  strain,  above  all  other  influence.     For  can 

.  have  more  of  influence  than  the  confession  of 

Holy  Trinity,  which  is  proclaimed  day  by  day  by  the 

:  lie  whole  people  ?     Each  is  eager  to   rival  his 

ws  in  confess     Ej       >  he  well  knows  how,  in  sacred 

yes*  Ida       th  in  Father,  Son.  and  Holy  Spirit.     Tims 

a  made  teachers  who  else  w  ere  scarce  equal  to  I 

seho'..-  s 

Monica,  S:  Augustine's  mother,  was  among  that  multi- 

_     beted  around  the  bishop.     The  eonte>: 

trifling  :  to  throw  back  on  this 

si  struggle    between    the 

:;d    the   Empire,    when    Hildehrand    kept    the 

bled    emperor    shivering    in    penance    amongst    the 

lid  in  the  days  of  Am- 
-   for  an  integral  part   of  the  Creed,   and    his 
i   was  That    the   Creed    Si 

tended  for  was  no  mere  lifeless  theo- 
v.  is  proved  by  the  nature  of  his  second 
with   the  imperial    court,    when    he   enforced    a 
ind  penance  on  the  orthodox  em] 
S  tl  -      rime   in   command:,  g 

ore  of  thousands  o: 
-  -    '  right*   moral    and 

s  truth,  wa  s  i  ind. 

-  .    but    the   Church 

oflict   retained 


ST  AUGUSTINE.  81 

its  hold  on  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  retained  also 
the  masculine  vigour  and  militant  austerity  which  be- 
came its  birth.  Thus  the  hymns  of  the  Western  Church 
were  cradled  on  the  battle-field,  and  the  sublime  strains 
of  faith  which  are  now  left  throughout  Europe  to  the 
formal  chanting  of  priests  and  choristers,  were  once  the 
household  hymns  of  the  people. 

St  Augustine  can  hardly  be  numbered  among  the 
hymn  writers ;  the  one  hymn  attributed  to  him,  and 
frequently  introduced  amongst  his  works,  is  said  to  have 
been  written  six  centuries  later  by  Cardinal  Damiani. 
He  speaks  of  himself  in  his  "  Confessions "  as  having 
"  indited  verses,"  but  that  was  before  his  conversion. 
Yet,  as  one  of  the  mightiest  instruments  in  fitting  the 
Latin  language  to  spiritual  uses,  and  as  the  great  channel 
through  which  the  doctrines  of  grace  flowed  to  the 
middle  ages,  and  thus,  doubtless,  the  source  of  many 
hymns,  his  name  should  scarcely  be  omitted  among  the 
number  of  those  by  whom  the  sacred  song  was  uttered. 
Many  passages  of  his  "  Confessions "  have  the  deepest 
melody  of  the  heart;  indeed,  are  not  the  whole  of  the 
"  Confessions,"  with  their  constant  "  departing  of  the 
heart  to  God,"  one  continuous  hymn,  one  constant  ascend- 
ing of  the  soul  from  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  from 
self  to  the  Saviour  ? 

The  chief  link,  however,  which  binds  the  name  of 
Augustine  to  our  subject,  is  his  record  of  the  impression 
made  by  these  early  Latin  hymns  on  his  own  heart.  He 
says  (Conf,  b.  ix.,  14,  15) : — 

"  Nor  was  I  sated  in  those  days  with  the  wondrous 
sweetness  of  considering  the  depth  of  Thy  counsels  con- 


82  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

cerning  the  salvation  of  mankind.  How  did  I  weep, 
through  Thy  hymns  and  canticles,  touched  to  the  quick 
by  the  voices  of  Thy  sweet  attuned  Church !  The  voices 
sank  into  mine  ears,  and  the  truth  distilled  into  mine 
heart,  whence  the  affections  of  my  devotions  overflowed; 
tears  ran  down,  and  happy  was  I  therein. 

"  Not  long  had  the  Church  of  Milan  begun  to  use  this 
kind  of  consolation  and  exhortation,  the  brethren  zeal- 
ously joining  with  harmony  of  voice  and  heart.  For  it 
was  a  year,  or  not  much  more,  that.  Justina,  mother  to 
the  Emperor  Valentinian,  then  a  child,  persecuted  Thy 
servant  Ambrose,  in  favour  of  her  heresy  to  which  she 
was  seduced  by  the  Arians.  The  devout  people  kept 
watch  in  the  church,  ready  to  die  with  their  bishop,  Thy 
servant.  There  my  mother,  Thy  handmaid,  bearing  a 
chief  part  in  those  anxieties  and  watchings,  lived  for 
prayer.  We,  yet  unwarmed  by  the  heat  of  Thy  Spirit, 
still  were  stirred  up  by  the  sight  of  the  amazed  and  dis- 
quieted city.  Then  it  was  instituted  that,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  Eastern  Churches,  hymns  and  psalms  should 
be  sung,  lest  the  people  should  wax  faint  through  the 
tediousness  of  sorrow;  and  from  that  day  to  this  the 
custom  is  retained,  divers  (yea,  almost  all)  Thy  congrega- 
tions throughout  other  parts  of  the  world  following 
herein." 

Another  passage  (in  the  9th  book)  is  especially  valu- 
able, as  shewing  the  power  of  those  Latin  hymns,  which 
seem  to  us  rather  majestic  than  soothing,  to  speak  com- 
fort to  Christian  mourners  in  those  days.  Their  healing 
virtue  must  have  lain  in  their  truth.     Speaking  of  the 


Monica's  death.  83 

death  of  that  mother  who  had  watched  him  through  all 
his  wanderings  with  such  patient  love,  hoping  against 
hope,  he  writes : — 

"  I  closed  her  eyes,  and  there  flowed  withal  a  mighty 
sorrow  into  my  heart,  which  was  overflowing  into  tears; 
mine  eyes,  at  the  same  time,  by  the  violent  command  of 
my  mind,  drank  up  their  fountain  wholly  dry,  and  woe 
was  me  in  such  a  strife !  But  when  she  breathed  her 
last,  the  boy  Adeodatus  (Augustine's  brother)  burst  into 
a  loud  lament;  then,  checked  by  us  all,  held  his  peace. 
In  like  manner,  also,  a  childish  feeling  in  me,  which  was, 
through  my  heart's  youthful  voice,  finding  its  vent  in 
weeping,  was  checked  and  silenced.  For  we  thought  it 
not  fitting  to  solemnise  that  funeral  with  tearful,  lament 
and  groanings;  for  thereby  do  they,  for  the  most  part, 
express  their  grief  for  the  departed,  as  though  unhappy 
or  altogether  dead ;  whereas  she  wras  neither  unhappy  in 
her  death,  nor  altogether  dead.  Of  this  we  were  assured 
on  good  grounds;  the  testimony  of  her  good  conversa- 
tion, and  her  faith  unfeigned.  What,  then,  was  it  which 
did  grievously  pain  me  within,  but  a  fresh  wound  wrought 
through  the  sudden  wrench  of  that  most  sweet  and  dear 
custom  of  living  together?  I  joyed  in  her  testimony, 
when,  in  that  her  last  sickness,  mingling  her  endearment 
with  my  acts  of  duty,  she  called  me  '  dutiful,'  and  men- 
tioned, witli  great  affection  of  love,  that  she  never  had 
heard  any  harsh  or  reproachful  sound  uttered  by  my 
mouth  against  her.  But  yet,  O  my  God,  who  madest  us, 
what  comparison  is  there  between  that  honour  that  I 
paid  to  her,  and  her  slavery  for  me  ?  Being,  then,  for- 
saken of  so  great  comfort  in  her,  my  soul  was  wounded, 


84  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

and  that  life  rent  asunder,  as  it  were,  which,  of  hers  and 
mine  together,  had  been  made  but  one. 

"  The  boy  Adeodatus  then  being  stilled  from  weeping, 
Euodius  took  up  the  Psalter,  and  began  to  sing  (our 
whole  house  answering  him)  the  psalm — c  I  will  sing  of 
mercy  and  judgment;  to  thee,  O  Lord,  will  I  sing.'  But 
hearing  what  we  were  doing,  many  brethren  and  reli- 
gious women  came  together ;  and  whilst  they,  whose 
office  it  was,  made  ready  for  the  burial,  as  the  manner  is, 
I,  in  a  part  of  the  house  where  I  might  properly,  to- 
gether with  those  who  thought  not  fit  to  leave  me,  dis- 
coursed upon  something  fitting  the  time ;  and  by  this 
balm  of  truth  assuaged  that  torment,  known  to  Thee, 
they  unknowing  and  listening  intently,  and  conceiving 
me  to  be  without  all  sense  of  sorrow.  But  in  Thy  ears, 
where  none  of  them  heard,  I  blamed  the  weakness  of  my 
feelings,  and  refrained  my  flood  of  grief,  which  gave  way 
a  little  unto  me,  but  again  came,  as  with  a  tide,  yet  not  so 
as  to  burst  out  into  tears,  nor  to  a  change  of  countenance; 
still  I  knew  what  I  was  keeping  down  in  my  grief." 

And  after  her  burial,  he  continues : — 

"Nor  did  I  weep  even  at  those  prayers;  yet  was  I  the 
whole  day  heavily  sad,  and  with  troubled  mind  prayed 
Thee,  as  I  could,  to  heal  my  sorrow;  yet  Thou  didst  not; 
impressing,  I  believe,  on  my  memory  by  this  one  in- 
stance, how  strong  the  bond  of  habit  is  even  on  a  sou] 
which  now  feeds  on  no  deceiving  word." 

Then  he  tried  to  refresh  himself  with  bathing : — 

"  But  the  bitterness  of  sorrow,"  he  continues,  "  could 
not  thus  be  washed  from  my  heart.  Then  I  slept,  and 
woke  up  again,  and  found  my  grief  not  a  little  softened, 


ST  AUGUSTINE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS.  8") 

and,  as  I  was  alone  in  my  bed,  I  remembered  those   true 
verses  of  Thine  Ambrose  : — 

1  Maker  of  all,  the  Lord 

And  Ruler  of  the  height, 
Who,  robing  day  in  light,  hast  pour'd 

Soft  slumbers  o'er  the  night ; 
That  to  our  limbs  the  power 

Of  toil  may  be  renew'd, 
And  hearts  be  raised  that  sink  and  cower, 

And  sorrows  be  subdued. '  * 

"  And  then,  by  little  and  little,  I  recovered  my  former 
thoughts  of  Thy  handmaid,  her  holy  conversation  towards 
Thee,  her  holy  tenderness  and  consideration  towards  us, 
whereof  I  was  suddenly  deprived ;  and  I  was  minded  to 
weep  in  Thy  sight  for  her  and  for  myself,  in  her  behalf 
and  on  my  own.  And  I  gave  way  to  the  tears  which 
before  I  restrained,  to  overflow  as  much  as  they  desired, 
reposing  my  heart  upon  them ;  and  it  found  rest  in  them, 
for  it  was  in  Thine  ears,  not  in  those  of  men,  who  would 
have  scornfully  interpreted  my  weeping.  And  now, 
Lord,  in  writing,  I  confess  it  unto  Thee.  Read  it  who 
will,  and  interpret  it  how  he  will;  and  if  he  finds  sin 
therein  that  I  wept  my  mother  for  a  small  portion  of  an 
hour  (the  mother  who,  for  the  time,  was  dead  to  mine 
eyes,  who  had  for  many  years  wept  for  me,  that  I  might 
live  in  Thine  eyes),  let  him  not  deride  me;  but  rather,  if 
he  be  one  of  large  charity,  let  him  weep  himself  for  my  sins 
unto  Thee,  the  Father  of  all  the  brethren  of  Thy  Christ." 

*  Thus  translated  in  "Confessions  of  St  Augustine.  Oxford  :  John 
Henry  Parker,  1848."  The  whole  of  the  original  hymn  has  been  trans- 
lated afresh,  and  is  given  at  the  end  of  the  chapter. 


SG  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBHOSIAN  HYMNS. 

Thus  did  those  early  Latin  hymns  speak  to  the  men  of 
their  times.  It  is  interesting  thus  to  trace  them  home  from 
the  great  congregation  to  the  mourners  solitary  heart. 
In  the  10th  book  of  his  "  Confessions/'  Augustine  speaks 
of  his  perplexity  in  denning  the  limits  of  the  use  of  Church 
music  in  devotion,  fearing  that  the  senses  might  thus  be 
more  delighted  than  the  heart  really  raised  to  God.  The 
whole  passage  must  be  quoted  to  explain  his  feelings  in 
this  instance,  also  representing,  doubtless,  the  perplexi- 
ties of  many  in  his  own  time,  as  well  as  in  ours : — 

"  The  delights  of  the  ear,"  he  writes,  "had  more  firmly 
entangled  and  subdued  me;  but  Thou  didst  loosen  and 
free  me.  Now,  in  those  melodies  which  Thy  words 
breathe  soul  into,  when  sung  with  a  sweet  and  attuned 
voice,  I  do  a  little  repose,  yet  not  so  as  to  be  held 
thereby  but  that  I  can  disengage  myself  when  I  will. 
Bnt  with  the  words,  which  are  their  life,  and  whereby 
they  find  admission  into  me,  themselves  seek  in  my  affec- 
tions a  place  of  some  estimation ;  and  I  can  scarcely  assign 
them  one  suitable.  For  at  one  time  I  seem  to  myself  to 
give  them  more  honour  than  is  seemly,  feeling  our  minds 
to  be  more  holily  and  fervently  raised  into  a  flame  of 
devotion  by  the  holy  words  themselves  when  thus  sung, 
than  when  not;  and  that  the  several  affections  of  our 
spirit,  by  a  sweet  variety,  have  their  own  proper  mea- 
sures in  the  voice  and  singing,  by  some  hidden  corre- 
spondence wherewith  they  are  stirred  up.  But  this  con- 
tentment of  the  flesh,  to  which  the  soul  must  not  be  given 
over  to  be  enervated,  doth  oft  beguile  me,  the  sense  not 
so  waiting  upon  reason  as  patiently  to  follow  her;  but 
having  been  admitted  merely  for  her  sake,  it  strives  even 


ST  AUGUSTINE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS.  87 

to  run  before  her  and  lead  her.      Thus,  in  these  things,  I, 
unawares,  sin,  but  afterwards  am  aware  of  it. 

"  At  other  times,  shunning  over  anxiously  this  very- 
deception,  I  err  in  too  great  strictness,  and  sometimes  to 
that  degree  as  to  wish  the  whole  melody  of  sweet  music 
which  is  used  in  David's  Psalter  banished  from  my  ears, 
and  the  Church's  too ;  and  that  mode  seems  to  me  safer 
which  I  remember  to  have  been  often  told  me  of  Atha- 
nasius,  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  who  made  the  reader  of  the 
psalm  utter  it  with  so  slight  an  inflection  of  voice  that 
it  was  nearer  speaking  than  singing.  Yet  again,  when  I 
remember  the  tears  I  shed  in  the  psalmody  of  Thy  Church, 
in  the  beginning  of  my  recovered  faith,  and  how  at  this 
time  I  am  moved,  not  with  the  singing,  but  with  the 
things  sung,  when  they  are  sung  with  a  clear  voice  and 
modulation  most  suitable,  I  acknowledge  the  great  use  of 
this  institution.  Thus  I  fluctuate  between  peril  and 
pleasure,  and  approved  wholesomeness ;  inclined  the 
rather  (though  not  as  pronouncing  an  irrevocable  opinion) 
to  approve  of  the  usage  of  singing  in  the  church,  that  so 
by  the  delight  of  the  ears  the  weaker  minds  may  rise  to 
the  feelings  of  devotion.  Yet,  when  it  befalls  me  to  be 
more  moved  with  the  voice  than  with  the  words  sung,  I 
confess  to  have  sinned  penally,  and  then  had  rather  not 
hear  music.  See  now  my  state:  weep  with  me,  and  weep 
for  me,  ye  who  so  regulate  your  feelings  within  as  that 
good  action  follows.  For  you  who  do  not  act,  these 
things  touch  not  you.  But  thou,  O  Lord  my  Cod, 
hearken,  behold,  and  see,  and  have  mercy  and  heal  me, 
Thou  in  whose  presence  I  have  become  a  problem  to  my- 
self; and  that  is  my  infirmity." 


88  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

Sucli  was  the  conflict  in  St  Austin's  mind,  which 
afterwards  found  a  broad  battle-field  in  Christendom ; 
the  great  debate  whether  art  more  tends  to  draw  our 
whole  mixed  nature  heavenwards,  or  to  draw  the  soul 
earthwards.  With  regard  to  music  in  psalms,  and  hymns, 
and  spiritual  songs,  the  question  seems  to  be  settled 
in  the  same  all-penetrating  pages  where  it  is  written, 
"  Every  creature  of  God  is  good,  and  to  be  received  with 
thanksgiving."  Nevertheless,  the  relations  of  the  hymns 
and  church  music  of  his  day  to  a  heart  and  spirit  like 
Augustine's,  must  have  a  deep  personal  interest  for  us. 
The  words  of  those  early  Western  hymns  seem  borne  back 
to  us  in  a  melodious  echo  from  the  heart  of  Augustine. 

The  character  of  these  early  Latin  hymns  is  either 
objective  or  occasional.  They  are  inspired  by  the  great 
objects  of  the  faith,  rather  than  by  inward  emotions. 
They  are  designed  for  the  various  ecclesiastical  hours 
(prime,  lauds,  matins,  terce,  mid-day,  nones,  vespers,  com- 
pline, or  midnight),  or  the  several  days  of  the  week,  and 
seasons  of  the  Christian  year,  recalling  the  events  in  sacred 
history  which  characterise  each  hour,  day,  or  season. 

Sunrise  and  sunset  form  naturally  the  prevailing  im- 
ages of  the  morning  and  evening  hymns.  Christ,  the 
Sun  of  righteousness  that  never  sets,  the  Light  that 
never  fades,  in  Himself  at  once  Day  and  Light,  is  their 
great  theme.  The  hymns  called  Ambrosian  are  all  in 
one  short  iambic  measure,  in  itself  a  monotonous  one, 
and  are  unrhymed.  Their  music  must  have  depended  on 
their  being  rather  sung  than  said,  and  the  melody  must 
have  melted  them  into  the  heart.  Only  a  few  of  them 
are  believed  to  have  been  written  by  St  Ambrose  himself. 


AMBROSIAN  HYMNS  SUNG  liY  THE  PEOPLE.  89 

Whilst  undisguised  Paganism  still  lingered  in  Christen- 
dom, and  Bibles  were  scarce  and  readers  rare,  there  was  a 
beautiful  and  practical  meaning  in  linking  the  passing 
hours  with  heaven,  thus  making  Time  himself  read  aloud 
the  Gospel  history,  and  converting  the  seasons  of  the 
year  into  a  kind  of  pictorial  Bible  for  the  poor.  For  it 
must  always  be  remembered  that  the  early  Latin  hymns 
were  no  mere  recreations  of  monastic  literary  retirement, 
but  sacred  popular  songs,  in  a  language  probably  as  little 
varying  from  the  common  speech  of  the  people  then, 
as  the  book  Italian  of  to-day  from  the  various  spoken 
dialects  of  Milan,  Genoa,  and  Venice.  They  were  not 
merely  read  by  priests  out  of  missals,  or  chanted  by  ela- 
borate choirs  in  eathedrals;  but,  as  St  Ambrose  and  St 
Augustine  tell  us,  were  murmured  by  the  people  at  their 
work  and  in  their  homes,  and  sung  in  grand  choruses  in 
the  great  congregation.  These  sacred  songs,  in  which  the 
Milanese  of  those  days  "  rivalled  one  another  in  chanting 
the  praises  of  the  Blessed  Trinity/'  are  no  bare  and  dry 
statements  of  opinion,  no  mere  fierce  party-cry,  nor,  as 
with  the  later  monks,  an  ingenious  mosaic  of  subtle  dis- 
tinctions, or  a  clever  compendium  of  a  difficult  science. 
They  were  earnest,  simple,  reverent  prayers  and  thanks- 
givings to  God  their  Father,  God  their  Redeemer,  perfect 
in  sympathising  humanity  and  infinite  Deity,  and  God 
their  Comforter,  Three  Persons  in  one  incomprehensible 
bnt  most  gracious  Godhead.  Christ  was  to  those  who 
sang  them,  not  only  the  Eternal  Light  of  Light,  the  co- 
equal Son  of  the  Father,  but  their  Sun  and  their  Shield. 

The  first  four  hymns  here  translated  may  help  us  to  be 
present  at  the  devotions  of  our  brethren  fourteen  hundred 


90  ST  AMBROSE  AXD  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

years  ago,  at  morning,  evening,  mid-day,  and  midnight. 
The  first  of  which  a  translation  is  attempted,  is  the  one 
which  in  the  original  shed  such  peace  on  St  Augustine's 
sorrowful  heart  on  the  morning  after  his  mother  s  death. 
He  speaks  of  it  as  the  composition  of  St  Ambrose  him- 
self There  is  certainly  something  most  practical  and 
beautiful  in  connecting,  as  this  hymn  does,  the  return 
of  morning  with  that  look  with  which  the  Lord  turned 
and  looked  on  Peter. 

HYMN  AT  THE  COCK-CROWING. 

(JEterne  rerum  Conditor.) 

Eternal  Maker  of  the  world, 

Who  rulest  both  the  night  and  day, 

With  order' d  times  dividing  Time, 
Our  toil  and  sorrow  to  allay. 

The  watchful  herald  of  the  dawn 

Announces  day  with  trumpet  shrill ) 

Lamp  to  the  wayfarer  at  night, 
Night  from  itself  dividing  still. 

The  morning  star  arising  bright 

Dissolves  the  darkness  from  the  sky  ; 

And,  startled  from  their  baleful  schemes, 
The  armed  powers  of  darkness  fly. 

The  mariner  reknits  his  strength; 

The  stormy  sea  is  lull'd  to  sleep ; 
And  Peter,  called  the  Church's  Rock,* 

Heaiing  this  sound,  his  sin  doth  weep. 

*  Dean  Trench,  in  his  u  Sacred  Latin  Poetry,"  says,  with  reference  to 
this  line,  that  St  Ambrose  elsewhere  explains  this  Rock  of  the  Church 
to  be  "  not  the  flesh,  but  the  faith  of  Peter." 


ST  HILARY  8  Mul.XIXC   HYM2*. 

To  strenuous  labour  let  us  rise, 

The  cock  calls  those  who  slumb'riug  lie, 

Awakes  the  sluggard  from  his  couch, 
Convicts  who  would  their  Lord  deny. 

At  the  cock -crowing,  hope  returns, 

New  health  through  sufF'ring  bodies  flows, 

The  midnight  thief  his  weapon  hides, 
New  faith  in  sinking  spirits  glows. 

Jesus  !  upon  the  falling  look, 
And,  looking,  heal  us,  Lord,  we  pray ; 

For  at  Thy  look  the  fallen  rise, 
And  guilt  in  tears  dissolves  away. 

Do  Thou,  our  Light,  illume  our  sense, 
Do  Thou  our  minds  from  slumber  free  ; 

For  Thee  our  voices  first  proclaim, 
And  wdth  our  lips  we  sing  to  Thee. 

8T  Hilary's  morning  himn. 
{Lucis  La rg it or  splendide.) 

Thou  bounteous  Giver  of  the  light, 
All-glorious,  in  whose  light  serene, 

Now  that  the  night  has  pass'd  away, 
The  day  pours  back  her  sunny  sheen. 

Thou  art  the  world's  true  Morning  Star, 
Not  that  which  on  the  edge  of  night, 

Faint  herald  of  a  little  orb, 

Shines  with  a  dim  and  narrow  light. 

Far  brighter  than  our  earthly  sun, 
Thyself  at  once  the  Light  and  Day, 


92  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

The  inmost  chambers  of  the  heart 
Illumining  with  heavenly  ray. 

Thou  Radiance  of  the  Father's  light, 
Draw  near,  Creator  Thou  of  all ; 

The  fears  of  whose  removed  grace, 
Our  hearts  with  direst  dread  appal. 

And  may  Thy  Spirit  fill  our  souls, 
That  in  the  common  needs  of  time, 

In  converse  with  our  fellow-men, 
We  may  be  free  from  every  crime. 

Be  every  evil  lust  repelPd 
By  guard  of  inward  purity, 

That  the  pure  body  evermore 
The  Spirit's  holy  shrine  may  be. 

These  are  our  votive  offerings, 
This  hope  inspires  us  as  we  pray, 

That  this  our  holy  matin  light 
May  guide  us  through  the  busy  day. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

(Christ e,  qui  Lux  es  et  Dies.) 

Christ,  who  art  both  our  Light  and  Day, 
Shine  with  Thy  face  the  night  away ; 
For  very  Light  of  Light  Thou  art, 
Who  dost  most  blessed  light  impart. 

We  pray  Thee,  0  most  holy  Lord, 
Defence  to  us  this  night  afford; 
With  quiet  let  these  hours  be  blest, 
And  calm  in  Thee,  Lord,  be  our  rest. 


MID-DAY  HYMN. 

No  heavy  sleep  o'er  us  prevail, 

Nor  us  our  deadly  foe  assail ; 

Nor  by  our  flesh,  through  him  beguiled, 

Be  before  Thee  the  soul  defiled. 

Sleep  on  our  eyes  its  hold  must  take, 
But  let  our  hearts  to  Thee  awake ; 
And  let  Thine  own  right  hand  defend 
Thy  servants  who  on  Thee  depend. 

Thy  servants,  purchased  with  Thy  blood, 
Yet  burden'd  with  their  mortal  load, 
Remember,  Lord !  be  present  here  ; 
Defender  of  the  soul !  be  near. 


MID-DAY  HYMN. 

{Jam  sexta  sensim  solvitur.) 

With  silent  step  we  see  to-day 
The  noontide  hour  before  us  glide ; 
Day,  poised  upon  her  course  midway, 
Looks  to  the  night  on  either  side. 

Ye  faithful  servants,  be  not  dumb, 
With  suppliant  hearts  and  voices  come, 
The  name  of  God  with  songs  to  greet — 
The  Blessed  Name  with  praises  meet. 

For,  lo !  the  hour  is  come  again 
When  sentenced  once  by  mortal  men 
The  Judge  of  all  was  doom'd  to  die, 
And  on  the  Cross  was  lifted  high. 

A  sudden  horror  paled  the  sun 
To  see  that  matchless  crime  begun ; 


94  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

Swift  from  that  impious  day  he  flies, 
And  o'er  the  earth  the  death-pall  lies. 

The  ancient  Foe  retains  his  guile, 
Meets  every  hour  with  force  or  wile  ; 
But  we.  with  love  to  Jesus  due, 
And  holy  fear,  his  ranks  press  through. 

Thus,  suppliant,  we  the  Father  own, 
Together  with  the  King,  the  Son, 
And  Holy  Ghost,  one  Trinity ; 
With  lowly  hearts  beseeching  Thee, 

That  whom  He  suffer'd  to  redeem 
When  thus  the  noon  tide  hour  grew  dim, 
Again  in  glory  now  array 'd, 
His  intercession  still  may  aid. 


MIDNIGHT  HYMN. 

{Mediae  noctis  tempus  est.) 

It  is  the  midnight  hour, 

Prophetic  voices  warn ; 
To  Father  and  to  Son  once  more 

Now  be  our  praise  upborne  ; 

And  to  the  Paraclete, — 

The  perfect  Trinity, 
God  in  one  substance  infinite, 

Ceaseless  our  praise  should  be. 

Terror  possess'd  this  hour 

When  once  the  Angel  sped 
Through  Egypt  with  destroying  power, 

And  the  first-born  lay  dead. 


MIDNIGHT  HYMN.  95 

This  hour  redemption  bore 

Peace  to  the  sons  of  God ; 
The  angel  pass'd  their  thresholds  o'er, 

Knowing  the  sign  of  blood. 

From  Egypt's  weeping  voice 

Burst  forth  the  bitter  cry ; 
Israel  alone  could  then  rejoice, 

For  the  Lamb's  sake  pass'd  by. 

We  are  Thine  Israel ; 

We  joy  in  Thee,  O  God ! 
And  we  the  ancient  foe  repel, 

Redeem'd  by  Christ's  own  blood. 

At  midnight  bursts  the  cry, 

So  saith  the  evangelist, 
"  Arise  !  the  Bridegroom  draweth  nigh, 

The  King  of  heaven,  the  Christ." 

The  virgins  then,  the  wise, 

Go  forth  their  Lord  to  meet ; 
Bearing  their  radiant  lamps,  they  rise, 

Then  is  their  joy  complete. 

The  foolish  virgins  sleep, 

They  seek  for  light  too  late ; 
In  vain  they  knock,  and  call,  and  weep, 

Closed  is  the  palace  gate. 

Let  us  keep  steadfast  guard 

With  lighted  hearts  all  night, 
That,  when  He  comes,  we  stand  prepared, 

And  meet  Him  with  delight. 

At  midnight's  season  chill, 
Lay  Paul  and  Silas  bound; 


96  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBKOSIAN  I1YMNI. 

Bound,  and  in  prison,  sang  they  still, 
And,  singing,  freedom  found. 

Our  prison  is  this  earth, 

And  yet  we  sing  to  Thee ! 
Break  sin's  strong  fetters,  lead  us  forth, 

Set  us,  believing,  free. 

Meet  for  thy  realm  in  heaven 

Make  us,  0  holy  King! 
That  through  the  ages  it  be  given 

To  us  Thy  praise  to  sing. 

The  following  hymn,  in  many  parts,  so  much  resembles 
the  "  Te  Deum,"  that  it  seems  more  appropriate  to  trans- 
late it  without  metre: — 

HYMN  TO  CHRIST. 

(Christe,  Rex  coeli,  Domine.) 

1  0  Lord  Christ,  King  of  heaven,  great  Saviour  of  the  world, 
who  by  the  gift  of  the  Cross  has  absolved  us  from  the  penalty 
of  death, 

2  We  beseech  Thee  to  preserve  the  gifts  which  by  the 
catholic  law  Thou  hast  given  to  all  nations. 

3  Thou  art  the  Eternal  Word,  proceeding  from  the  Father, 
very  God  of  very  God,  the  only  begotten  Son. 

4  The  whole  creation,  begun  at  the  decree  of  the  Father,  by 
Thy  might  perfected,  doth  acknowledge  Thee  to  be  the  Lord. 

5  All  the  angels  shew  Thy  heavenly  glory ;  the  choir  of  the 
archangels  with  divine  voices  praise  Thee. 

6  The  multitude  of  the  four-and-twenty  elders,  bearing  vials 
full  of  odours,  suppliant  adore  Thee. 

7  Cherubim  and  seraphim,  thrones  of  the  Father's  light, 
beating  their  six  wings,  to  Thee  continually  do  cry, 


st  Ambrose's  advent  hymn.  97 

8  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth ;  heaven  and  earth 
are  full  of  Thy  glory. 

9  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David;  blessed  art  Thou  of  the 
Father,  0  Lord,  who  comest  from  the  highest  in  the  name-  of 
God. 

10  Thou,  the  spotless  Lamb,  hast  given  Thyself  a  victim  on 
the  earth,  who  hast  washed  the  robes  of  the  saints  in  Thine 
own  blood. 

11  The  host  of  blessed  martyrs  dwelling  in  heaven,  glorious 
with  palms  and  crowns,  follow  Thee,  the  Prince  of  glory. 

12  We  pray  Thee  add  us  to  their  number,  O  Lord.  With 
one  voice  we  acknowledge  Thee,  and  praise  Thee  with  one 
song. 

The  following  verses  are  extracted  from  St  Ambrose's 
celebrated  hymn  on  the  Advent.  It  is  the  first  of  the 
series  of  translations  here  selected  from  the  Ambrosian 
hymns  on  the  truths  commemorated  in  the  various  fes- 
tivals : — 

ADVENT  HYMN. 

ST  AMBROSE. 

(  Veni,  Redemptor  gentium!) 

Redeemer  of  the  nations,  come  ; 
Pure  offspring  of  the  Virgin's  womb, 
Seed  of  the  woman,  promised  long, 
Let  ages  swell  Thine  advent  song. 

Once  from  the  Father  came  He  forth, 
Home  to  the  Father  rose  from  earth ; 
The  depths  of  hell  the  Saviour  trod, 
Now  seated  on  the  throne  of  God. 

To  God  the  Father  equal,  Word, 
Thy  mortal  vesture  on  Thee  gird ; 


98  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

The  weakness  of  our  flesh  at  length 
Sustaining  by  Thy  changeless  strength. 

Thy  cradle  shines  the  darkness  through, 
Illuming  night  with  lustre  new, 
Which  never  night  shall  hide  again, 
But  faith  in  ceaseless  light  retain. 

ON  THE  EPIPHANY. 
ATJRELIUS  PRUDENTIUS  CLEMENS. 

(0  sola  magnarum  urbium!) 

Small  among  cities,  Bethlehem, 
Yet  far  in  greatness  passing  them ; 
He  who  shall  King  and  Saviour  be, 
The  Infinite,  is  born  in  thee. 

That  radiant  star,  which  hath  the  sun 
In  beauty  and  in  light  outshone, 
Proclaims  that  God  has  come  to  earth 
In  mortal  flesh,  of  human  birth. 

The  Magi,  guided  by  that  star, 
Their  Eastern  offerings  bring  from  far, 
Prostrate,  with  vows,  their  gifts  unfold, 
Myrrh,  frankincense,  and  royal  gold. 

Treasures  and  perfumes  rich  they  bring, 
Meet  tributes  for  the  God  and  King ; 
Embalming  frankincense  and  myrrh 
Foretell  the  mortal  sepulchre. 

The  two  following  hymns  have  a  peculiar  interest  as 
simple  narratives,  by  which,  no  doubt,  the  glad  tidings 
were  sung  into  the  hearts  of  the  people,  although  there  is 


HYMN  ON  THE  PASSION.  99 

a  danger  of  the  simplicity  of  the  original  sinking  in  a 
translation  into  the  jingle  of  a  nursery  ballad  : — 

ON  THE  PASSION. 

(Hymnum  dicamus  Domino?) 

Come  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord 

A  song  of  highest  praise  to  God, 
Who  on  the  accursed  and  shameful  tree* 

Kedeem'd  us  by  His  blood. 

The  day  was  sinking  into  eve, 

The  blessed  Lord's  betrayal-day, 
When  impious  to  the  Supper  came 

He  who  would  Christ  betray. 

Jesus  at  that  last  supper  then 

Tells  the  disciples  what  shall  be  : 
"  For  one  of  you  betrayeth  Me, 

Of  you  who  eat  with  Me." 

Judas,  by  basest  greed  seduced, 
Seeks  to  betray  Him  with  a  kiss ; 

He,  as  a  meek  and  spotless  lamb, 
Denies  not  Judas  this. 

Thus  for  some  thirty  counted  pence, 
The  impious  bargain  Judas  made ; 

And  Christ,  the  harmless,  blameless  Lord, 
Is  to  the  Jews  betray'd. 

Pilate,  the  governor,  proclaim'd, 
"  Lo,  I  in  Him  no  fault  can  find;" 

"Washing  in  water  then  his  hands, 
Christ  to  His  foes  resigned. 

*  "Patibulo  cruris." 


100  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

The  blinded  Jews  rejected  Him, 
And  chose  a  murderer  instead ; 

Of  Christ,  "Let  Him  be  crucified," 
With  bitter  words  they  said. 

Barabbas  then  is  freed,  as  bound, 
Guilty,  and  doom'd  to  death  He  lies; 

And  the  world's  Life  is  crucified, 
By  whom  the  dead  arise. 


EASTER  HYMN. 

{Aurora  lucis  rutilat.) 

The  morning  kindles  all  the  sky, 

The  heavens  resound  with  anthems  high, 

The  earth's  exulting  songs  reply, 

Hell  wails  a  great  and  bitter  cry. 

For  He,  the  strong  and  rightful  King, 
Death's  heavy  fetters  severing, 
Treads  'neath  His  feet  the  ancient  foe, 
Redeems  a  wretched  race  from  woe. 

Vainly  with  rocks  His  tomb  they  barr'd, 
While  Roman  guards  kept  watch  and  ward ; 
Majestic  from  the  spoiled  tomb 
In  pomp  of  triumph  He  is  come. 

Let  the  long  wail  at  length  give  place, 
The  groanings  of  a  sentenced  race, 
The  shining  angels,  as  they  speed, 
Proclaim,  "The  Lord  is  risen  indeed!" 

The  sad  apostles  mourn'd  their  loss, 
They  mused  upon  the  shameful  Cross, 


EASTER  HYMN.  101 

They  mourn'd  their  Master  basely  slain, 
They  knew  not  He  must  rise  again. 

The  women  came  to  embalm  the  dead ; 
To  them  the  angel  gently  said, 
With  gracious  words,  "  In  Galilee 
Your  risen  Lord  ye  now  may  see." 

Then  hasting  on  their  eager  way, 
The  blessed  tidings  swift  to  say, 
At  once  their  living  Lord  they  meet, 
And  stoop  to  kiss  His  sacred  feet. 

When  the  bereaved  disciples  heard, 
Their  hearts  with  speechless  joy  were  stirr'd; 
They  also  haste  to  Galilee, 
Their  Lord's  adored  face  to  see. 

The  sun  the  happy  world  doth  cheer 
With  Easter  joy,  serene  and  clear, 
As  on  the  Christ,  this  day  of  days, 
Enrapt,  with  mortal  eyes,  they  gaze. 

His  pierced  hands  to  them  He  shows, 
Where  love's  divinest  radiance  glows; 
They  with  the  angel's  message  speed, 
Proclaim,  u  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  !  " 

0  Christ,  our  King  compassionate, 
Our  hearts  possess ;  on  Thee  we  wait, 
That  we  may  render  praises  due 
To  Thee  the  endless  ages  through. 

The  next  hymn  is  attributed  by  Mone  to  St  Ambrose 
himself : — 


102  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

EASTER  HYMN. 

{Hie  est  dies  verus  Dei.) 

This  is  the  very  day  of  God, 
Serene  with  holy  light  it  came — 
In  which  the  stream  of  sacred  blood 
Swept  over  the  world's  crime  and  shame. 

Lost  souls  with  faith  once  more  it  filTd, 
The  darkness  from  blind  eyes  dissolved ; 
Whose  load  of  fear,  too  great  to  yield, 
Seeing  the  dying  thief  absolved  ? 

Changing  the  cross  for  the  reward, 
That  moment's  faith  obtains  his  Lord, 
Before  the  just  his  spirit  flies, 
The  first-fruits  enters  Paradise. 

The  angels  ponder,  wondering, 
They  see  the  body's  pain  and  strife, 
They  see  to  Christ  the  guilty  cling, 
And  reap  at  once  the  blessed  life. 

O  admirable  Mystery  ! 

The  sins  of  all  are  laid  on  Thee ; 

And  Thou,  to  cleanse  the  world's  deep  stain, 

As  man  dost  bear  the  sins  of  men. 

What  can  be  ever  more  sublime  ! 
That  grace  might  meet  the  guilt  of  time, 
Love  doth  the  bonds  of  fear  undo, 
And  death  restores  our  life  anew. 

Death's  fatal  spear  himself  doth  wound ; 
With  his  own  fetters  he  is  bound. 


ANCIENT  EASTER   HYMN.  103 

Lo  !  dead  the  Life  of  all  men  lies, 
That  life  anew  for  all  might  rise ; — 

That  since  death  thus  hath  pass'd  on  all, 
The  dead  might  all  arise  again ; 
By  his  own  death-blow  death  might  fall, 
And  o'er  his  unshared  fall  complain. 

The  following  Easter  Hymn,  among  the  most  ancient 
of  all,  Daniel  ("  Thesaurus,"  i.  89)  suggests  may  have 
been  sung  in  the  early  Church  by  the  newly  baptized 
catechumens,  when,  in  their  white  robes,  they  first  drew 
near  to  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  This  double  sym- 
bolism does  not  lessen  the  beauty  of  the  scriptural 
imagery : — 

EASTER  HYMN. 

(Ad  ccenam  Agni  providi.) 
The  Supper  of  the  Lamb  to  share, 
We  come  in  vesture  white  and  fair; 
The  Red  Sea  cross'd,  our  hymn  we  sing 
To  Christ,  our  Captain  and  our  King. 

His  holy  body  on  the  cross, 
Parch'd,  on  that  altar  hung  for  us, 
And  drinking  of  His  crimson  blood, 
We  live  upon  the  living  God. 

Protected  in  the  Paschal  night 
From  the  destroying  angel's  might, 
And  by  a  powerful  hand  set  free 
From  Pharaoh's  bitter  slavery. 

For  Christ  our  Passover  is  slain, 
The  Lamb  is  offer'd  not  in  vain ; 
With  truth's  sincere  unleaven'd  bread 
His  flesh  He  gave,  His  blood  He  shed. 


104  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

0  Victim,  worthy  Thou  for  ever, 
Who  didst  the  bands  of  hell  dissever, 
Redeem  Thy  captives  from  the  foe, 
The  gift  of  life  afresh  bestow. 

When  Christ  from  out  the  tomb  arose, 
Victor  o'er  hell  and  all  His  foes, 
The  tyrant  forth  in  chains  He  drew, 
And  planted  Paradise  ar.ow. 

Author  of  all,  to  Thee  we  pray, 
In  this  our  Easter  joy  to-day ; 
From  every  weapon  death  can  wield 
Thy  trusting  people  ever  shield. 

ON  THE  ASCENSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 

(Optatus  votis  omnium?) 

At  length  the  long'd-for  joy  is  given, 
The  sacred  day  begins  to  shine, 
When  Christ  our  God,  our  Hope  divine, 

Ascends  the  radiant  steep  of  heaven. 

Ascending  where  He  used  to  be, 

The  Lord  resumes  His  ancient  throne ; 
The  heavenly  realms  with  joys  unknown, 

Only-begotten,  welcome  Thee. 

The  mighty  victory  is  wrought, 
The  prince  of  this  world  lieth  low ; 
The  Son  to  God  presenteth  now 

The  human  flesh  in  which  He  fought. 

High  o'er  the  clouds  He  comes  to  reign, 
Gives  hope  to  those  who  in  Him  trust; 
The  Paradise  which  Adam  lost 

He  opens  wide  to  man  again. 


ASCENSION  HYMN.  105 

0  mighty  joy  to  all  our  race  ! 

The  Virgin-born,  who  bore  for  us 
The  stripes,  the  spitting,  and  the  cross, 

Takes  on  the  Father's  throne  His  place. 

To  Thee  let  ceaseless  praises  rise, 

Champion  of  our  salvation  Thou, 

Bearing  Thy  human  body  now 
In  the  high  palace  of  the  skies. 

One  common  joy  this  day  shall  fill 

The  hearts  of  angels  and  of  men  ; 

To  them  that  Thou  art  come  again, 
To  us  that  Thou  art  with  us  still. 

Now,  following  in  the  steps  He  trod, 

'Tis  ours  to  look  for  Christ  from  heaven, 
And  so  to  live  that  it  be  given 

To  rise  with  Him  at  last  to  God. 

ASCENSION  HYMN. 

(Jesu  nostra  Eeclemptio.) 

Jesus,  our  Redemption  now, 
Our  Desire  and  Love  art  Thou; 
God  before  creation's  prime, 
Man  born  in  the  end  of  time. 

What  compassion  vanquish'd  Thee, 
Brought  Thee  to  the  shameful  tree- 
Bearing  our  transgressions  there, 
Thy  redeem'd  from  death  to  spare  ! 

Piercing  to  the  depths  of  hell, 
All  its  strength  before  Thee  fell, 
Ransoming  thy  captive  band, 
Seated  now  at  God's  right  hand. 


10G  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

Love  constrain'd  Thee,  Lord,  to  this, 
That  we  might  partake  Thy  bliss; 
O'er  our  sin  abounds  Thy  grace — 
Satisfy  us  with  Thy  face. 

Be  our  joy,  we  pray  Thee,  now; 
Our  reward  eternal  Thou ; 
And  as  countless  ages  flee, 
All  our  glory  be  in  Thee. 

By  means  of  Latin  hymns  such  as  these,  if  all  other 
sacred  literature  of  the  period  had  perished,  might  we 
not  trace  the  course  of  Christian  life  in  the  fourth  cen- 
tury from  hour  to  hour,  and  from  day  to  day  throughout 
the  year?  An  ideal  life  this  would  indeed  be,  rather 
than  one  led  in  full  by  any  sinful  man  on  earth.  But 
the  ideal  is  the  standard  of  the  actual;  the  aim  shews 
the  direction  of  the  effort,  though  it  may  not  indeed 
shew  how  nearly  the  object  was  attained. 

In  the  morning,  then,  these  hymns  would  awake  those 
in  whose  hearts  their  melody  lived  to  the  shining  of  an 
eternal  Sun,  serene  in  changeless  and  life-giving  light; 
and  illumined  by  Him,  "  spurning  sloth,  and  casting  off 
the  works  of  darkness,"  they  would  go  forth  as  children 
of  the  Day  to  the  day's  work.  The  third  hour  reminded 
them  that  then  Jesus  had  been  crucified;  the  glow  of  the 
southern  noon,  that  then  the  Light  of  the  world  had  hung 
in  darkness  on  the  cross  for  their  redemption ;  at  the 
ninth  hour,  the  cloud  had  passed  from  the  cross.  At 
evening  they  lay  down  in  peace,  Christ,  at  once  their 
Light  and  their  Day,  shining  through  the  thickest  dark- 
ness; and  in  Him  they  found  rest.  Midnight  also  had 
its  radiant  cluster  of  sacred  memories;  the  Paschal  Lamb, 


HYMNS  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  YEAR.  107 

the  praises  sung  by  Paul  and  Silas  in  the  prison,  the  cry 
"The  Bridegroom  cometh ! "  Thus  the  round  of  sweet 
and  solemn  recollections  brought  them  back  to  the  cock- 
crowing,  and  they  were  reminded  of  that  unutterable  look 
with  which  the  Lord. turned  and  looked  on  Peter,  and 
melted  all  the  ice  from  his  heart.  Day  after  day  bore  its 
own  story  of  the  creating  and  redeeming  work  of  God. 
The  manger  of  the  infant  Saviour,  and  the  star  of  Beth- 
lehem, shone  through  their  winter.  Spring,  with  the 
singing  of  birds,  and  the  splendour  of  flowers,  and  all  its 
visible  dawning  of  new  life,  brought  also  the  morning  of 
the  resurrection;  the  Easter  joy  of  nature  and  of  the 
Church  burst  forth  in  harmony.  Summer  led  their  hearts 
up  through  its  radiant  depths  of  light  to  the  surpassing 
glory  of  the  throne  where  sitteth  the  ascended  Son  of 
God,  restored  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Father.  And  with 
the  fulness  of  life  in  the  natural  world,  came  the  fulness 
of  life  in  the  spiritual,  as  Pentecost  recalled  the  descent 
of  the  life-giving  Spirit  to  abide  with  the  Church  for 
ever. 

There  were  also  commemorations  of  martyrs  and  just 
men ;  but  although  the  early  hymns  on  these  subjects  are 
chiefly  historical,  praises  of  the  saints  sung  to  the 
Kin"  of  saints,  it  must  be  confessed  thev  are  not  all  free 
from  invocations  to  the  creature.  Still,  although  this 
evil  was  indeed  steadily  creeping  on,  the  terrible  compli- 
cation of  superstitions,  which  at  length  so  nearly  eclipsed 
all  the  sunshine,  was  not  yet  developed.  As  yet,  the 
Name  of  Jesus  was  indeed  above  every  name ;  the  martyrs 
and  saints  in  heaven  were  still  practically  regarded  but 
as  servants  on  the  steps  of  His  glorious  throne,  torch- 


108  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  A3XBHOS1AN  HYMNS. 

bearers  at  His  marriage-feast.  For  present  light,  and 
pardon,  and  strength,  these  hymns  steadily  point  to 
Christ  alone;  His  cross,  His  resurrection,  and  His  dwell- 
ing in  the  heavens,  are  the  source  of  every  hope.  That 
whole  order  of  external  services,  sometimes  called  the 
Church,  was  indeed  gradually  travelling  from  that  place 
where  it  fully  reflected  the  Sun  to  the  opposite  point;  the 
full-orbed  "  eternal  pearl"  was  waning  slowly  into  the 
hemisphere,  and  the  crescent,  and  the  thin  thread  of 
silver,  but  it  had  not  yet  become  quite  dark,  still  less  had 
it  eclipsed  the  sun.  The  mirror  had  not  yet  been  trans- 
ferred into  the  place  of  the  window,  thus  itself  ceasing  to 
shine,  and  hiding  the  light  by  which  it  shone.  The  veil 
of  the  temple  was  indeed  being  woven  again,  and  silently 
drawn  back  into  its  old  place ;  generation  after  genera- 
tion thickening  its  texture  with  some  fresh  embroidery, 
imagining  they  adorned  the  sanctuary,  whilst  they  only 
closed  it;  but  the  glorious  rent  was  not  yet  repaired,  and 
heaven  still  slione  through — heaven,  with  its  crystal  sea, 
its  songs,  and  its  white-robed  multitudes,  and  in  the 
midst  the  Lamb,  in  whose  blood  those  robes  had  been 
made  white. 

Surely  these  early  Latin  hymns  testify  to  this  and  to 
much  besides.  There  is  still  in  them  the  healthy  upward 
tendency  of  early  times.  They  seek  rather  to  pierce  the 
heavens  to  Christ,  than  to  dive  into  the  heart  for  emotion. 
One  glorious  Person  shines  above  and  through  them  all. 

And  whilst,  from  other  symptoms,  we  know  that  super- 
stition increased,  can  we  not  trace  in  these  hymns  an 
advance  in  the  apprehension  of  the  truth  It  Truth,  indeed, 
came  complete  to  us  from  God,  enshrine4  in  %\\e  crysta} 


THE  DOCTfilNB  OF  THE  CROSS.  100 

of  the  Bible.  But  is  there  not  in  the  Church,  as  well  as 
in  the  soul,  a  growth  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ,  a  gra- 
dual enlightening  of  the  mind  to  perceive  the  treasures 
laid  up  in  Him?  The  armoury  was  indeed  fully  fur- 
nished from  the  first;  not  one  weapon  has  been  added 
since  the  Saviour  vanquished  Satan  for  us,  and  St  Paul 
proved  the  panoply.  But  age  after  age  has  brought  out 
fresh  arms  from  the  inexhaustible  store,  as  they  were 
needed.  The  Arian  controversy,  whilst  it  brought  forth 
a  quantity  of  vain  subtleties  and  bitter  words,  rang  from 
the  true  metal  a  sound  clearer  than  it  had  yielded  before. 
]t  brought  up  from  the  old  mine  many  a  jewel  for  the 
crown  of  Him  who  is  King  of  kings.  It  struck  from  the 
heart  of  the  true  Church  many  an  adoring  hymn  to  her 
Lord. 

And  in  those  early  Latin  hymns  is  there  not  a  clearer 
atterance  of  the  great  truth  of  the  Cross,  the  truth  which 
sustains  the  heart  in  life  and  death,  than  even  in  the 
early  Oriental  hymns?  The  trust  in  the  Lamb  of  God, 
smitten  for  our  transgressions,  and  bearing  away  our  sins, 
does  indeed  shine  through  the  Oriental  hymns,  but  is  it 
not  more  pervading  and  glowing  in  the  Ambrosian?  Is 
there  not,  in  this  respect,  more  of  the  impress  of  the 
Apostolic  Epistles  on  these  last?  How  frequently  the 
image  of  the  Paschal  Lamb  recurs  in  them,  the  words 
"  redeemed  by  Thy  blood,"  and  the  thought  of  Jesus  bear- 
ing death  in  our  stead,  the  Just  submitting  willingly 
to  the  penalty  that  the  unjust  might  be  redeemed, 
liberated,  and  made  holy!  The  tone  of  the  "  Te  Deum" 
thrills  through  them  all  : — "  We  therefore  pray  Thee, 
help  Thy  servants  whom  Thou  hast  redeemed  with  Thy 


110  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS. 

precious  blood ;"  and  it  is  the  echo  of  a  yet  earlier  and 
deeper  song. 

This  chapter  may  be  closed  by  a  hymn  extracted  from 
a  longer  poem  by  Prudentius.  It  was  never  incorporated 
into  the  public  services  of  the  Church  until  the  Reforma- 
tion, when,  after  lying  comparatively  dormant  from  the 
fourth  century  to  the  sixteenth,  it  awoke  to  life  as  the 
favourite  funeral  hymn  of  the  Protestants  of  Germany. 
Such  it  remained  for  many  years,  sometimes  in  the  ori- 
ginal Latin,  and  sometimes  in  a  German  translation. 

FUNERAL  HYMN,  BY  PRUDENTIUS. 

(Jam  mcesta  quiesce  querela,) 

Ah  !  hush  now  your  mournful  complainings, 
Nor,  mothers,  your  sweet  babes  deplore ; 

This  death  we  so  shrink  from  but  cometh 
The  ruin  of  life  to  restore. 

Who  now  would  the  sculptor's  rich  marble, 

Or  beautiful  sepulchres,  crave  ] 
We  lay  them  but  here  in  their  slumber; 

This  earth  is  a  couch,  not  a  grave. 

This  body  a  desolate  casket, 

Deprived  of  its  jewel,  we  see ; 
But  soon,  her  old  colleague  rejoining, 

The  soul  reunited  shall  be. 

For  quickly  the  day  is  approaching, 

When  life  through  these  cold  limbs  shall  flow, 

And  the  dwelling,  restored  to  its  inmate, 
With  the  old  animation  shall  glow. 


PRUBENTIUS1  FUNERAL  HYMN.  Ill 

The  body  which  lay  in  dishonour, 

In  the  mouldering  tomb  to  decay, 
Rejoin'd  to  the  spirit  which  dwelt  there, 

Shall  soar  like  a  swift  bird  away. 

The  seed  which  we  sow  in  its  weakness, 

In  the  spring  shall  rise  green  from  the  earth; 

And  the  dead  we  thus  mournfully  bury, 

In  God's  spring-time  again  shall  shine  forth. 

Mother  Earth,  in  thy  soft  bosom  cherish 

Whom  we  lay  to  repose  in  thy  dust; 
For  precious  these  relics  we  yield  thee : 

Be  faithful,  0  Earth,  to  thy  trust. 

This  once  was  the  home  of  a  spirit 

Created,  and  breathed  from  its  God  ; 
The  wisdom  and  love  Christ  imparteth 

Once  held  in  this  frame  their  abode. 

Then  shelter  the  sacred  deposit ; 

The  Maker  will  claim  it  of  thee ; 
The  Sculptor  will  never  forget  it, 

Once  form'd  in  His  image  to  be. 

The  happy  and  just  times  are  coming, 

When  God  every  hope  shall  fulfil; 
And  visibly  then  thou  must  render 

What  now  in  thy  keeping  lies  still. 

For  though,  through  the  slow  lapse  of  ages, 
These  mouldering  bones  should  grow  old, 

Reduced  to  a  handful  of  ashes 

A  child  in  its  hands  might  enfold : 

Though  flames  should  consume  it,  and  breezes 
Invisibly  float  it  away, 


112  ST  AMBROSE  AND  THE  AMBROSIAX  HYMNS. 

Yet  the  body  of  man  cannot  perish, 
Indestructible  through  its  decay. 

Yet  whilst,  0  our  God,  o'er  the  body 
Thou  watchest,  to  mould  it  again, 

What  region  of  rest  hast  Thou  order'd 
Where  the  spirit  unclothed  may  remain  ? 

In  the  bosom  of  saints  is  her  dwelling, 
Where  the  fathers  and  Lazarus  are, 

Whom  the  rich  man,  athirst,  in  his  anguish 
Beholds  in  their  bliss  from  afar. 

We  follow  Thy  words,  0  Redeemer, 

When,  trampling  on  Death  in  his  pride, 

Thou  sentest  to  tread  in  Thy  footsteps 
The  thief  on  the  cross  at  Thy  side. 

The  bright  way  of  Paradise  open'd, 

For  every  believer  has  space ; 
And  that  garden  again  we  may  enter 

Which  the  serpent  once  closed  to  our  race. 

Thus  violets  sweet,  and  green  branches, 
Oft  over  these  relics  we  strew ; 

The  name  on  these  cold  stones  engraven 
With  perfumes  we'll  fondly  bedew. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS,  AND  THE 
VENERABLE  BEDE. 

We  are  now  approaching  the  middle  ages ;  but  before 
Chivalry  and  the  Crusaders,  Gothic  architecture  and  the 
feudal  system,  and  all  the  various  civil  and  social  elements 
which  are  generally  thought  characteristic  of  that  period, 
had  taken  definite  form,  we  pass  through  a  border  land, 
left  waste  for  the  struggles  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
races,  literature  and  civilisation.  This  border  land  has 
its  rich  and  wild  border  minstrelsy,  and  is  as  fertile  in 
wonders  to  us  as  it  was  barren  of  rest  and  comfort  to 
those  who  lived  in  it.  Mediaeval  legend  takes  wing 
from  thence  as  from  the  heroic  ages  of  modern  Christen- 
dom. Its  heroes  are  canonised  saints,  an  army  counted 
and  memorialised  by  tens  of  thousands.  Old  Roman 
names  and  titles  lie  strewn  about  in  picturesque  con- 
fusion amongst  new  Gothic  names  and  titles;  and  the 
Gothic  names  further  increase  the  perplexity,  by  being, 
for  the  most  part,  ashamed  of  their  parentage,  and  trying 
to  look  like  Latin.  Emperors  and  kings,  prefects  and  dukes, 
consuls  and  counts,  peers  and  paladins,  caliphs  and  em- 
presses, Irish  monks  and  Greek  rhetoricians,  the  "  demon 
Minerva"  and  Saint  Rhadegunda,  move  about  amongst  each 


114       GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

other  in  these  ages  with  easy  familiarity,  and  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  convict  the  most  extravagant  legend  of  anachronism 
in  recording  days  when  anachronisms  were  the  rule. 

The  disorder  and  wretchedness  of  these  golden  ages 
of  legend  was  extreme.  Thoughtful  men  believed  that 
these  were  the  last  days.  They  could  see  no  existing 
elements  which  could  evolve  a  world  from  this  chaos,  and 
looked  for  no  amelioration,  save  in  the  sudden,  manifest 
destruction  of  the  old  order,  and  the  creation  of  a  new. 
Gregory  the  Great,  Bishop  of  Rome  (590),  said,  in  a  ser- 
mon, "  Those  saints,  on  whose  graves  we  stand,  had 
hearts  exalted  enough  to  despise  the  world  in  its  bloom" 
(to  him,  also,  the  golden  age  lay  in  the  past)  ;  "  there  was 
then  long  life  amongst  men,  continued  prosperity,  rest, 
and  peace ;  and  yet,  whilst  the  world  was  still  blooming 
in  itself,  its  charm  had  already  faded  from  their  hearts. 
But  now,  lo !  the  world  itself  has  faded,  and  yet  its  charm 
over  our  hearts  decays  not.  Everywhere  death,  every- 
where misery,  everywhere  destruction;  we  are  smitten  on 
all  sides — on  all  sides  bitter  waters  overflow  us ;  and  yet, 
with  senses  blinded  by  earthly  passion,  we  love  the  very 
bitterness  of  the  world,  we  pursue  the  world  flying  from 
our  embrace,  we  cling  to  the  world  sinking  from  our 
grasp,  and,  not  being  able  to  sustain  the  sinking  world, 
we,  cleaving  to  it  as  it  sinks,  sink  with  it  into  the  deep. 
Once  the  world  enchained  us  by  its  charms ;  now  it  is  so 
full  of  misery  that  of  itself  it  points  us  to  God."  And 
again,  in  another  sermon,  "  Everywhere  do  we  see  mourn- 
ing, everywhere  do  we  hear  sighs.  The  cities  are  de- 
stroyed, the  castles  are  ruined,  the  fields  are  laid  waste, 
the  whole  land  is   desolate,  the  villages  are  empty,  and 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  REDE.  115 

scarcely  an  inhabitant  is  left  in  the  cities,  and  even  this 
scanty  remnant  of  the  human  race  is  daily  exposed  to 
slaughter.  The  scourge  of  heavenly  justice  is  not  with- 
drawn,  because,  even  under  the  scourge,  no  amendment 
takes  place.  We  see  some  carried  into  captivity,  some 
maimed,  others  slain."  Any  history  of  the  period  will 
shew  us  that  this  is  no  denunciatory  rhetoric.  Wild 
Gothic  hosts  plundered  Lombardy  and  Gaul.  England 
and  all  the  shores  of  Europe  were  invaded  and  desolated 
by  northern  pirates,  and  ere  the  northern  tide  had  sub- 
sided into  settled  channels,  it  was  met  by  another  fierce 
torrent  from  the  south ;  and  between  the  devastations  of 
Goth  and  Saracen,  the  wretched  populations  of  Western 
Europe,  previously  crushed  by  provincial  misgovernment, 
were  tossed  helplessly  to  and  fro.  Nations  there  were 
none.  Eome  had  crushed  all  the  old  national  life  beneath 
the  pressure  of  her  imperial  institutions,  and  now  these, 
in  their  turn,  were  crumbling  into  dust. 

But  amidst  all  this  tumult  and  ruin  lived  one  inde- 
structible life — the  life  of  believing  Christian  men,  in  and 
from  Christ — the  life  hidden  with  Christ  in  God,  but 
beaming  forth,  in  those  dark  ages,  in  countless  works  of 
mercy,  order,  and  freedom,  found  nowhere  beside.  This 
central  life  vibrated  even  to  the  utmost  circumference 
of  the  external  Church — ever,  indeed,  in  fainter  eddies, 
as  the  centre  was  further  off,  yet  still,  even  at  the  furthest 
edge  to  which  its  influence  thrilled,  different  from  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  In  the  days  of  Ambrose,  it  was 
a  freedom  which  made  men  free  to  rebuke  the  crimes,  and 
resist  the  unjust  exactions,  of  imperial  despotism.  In  the 
time  of  universal  tumult  and  disorder  which  succeeded, 


116        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,   VEXAXTIUS  FORTUXATUS, 

it  was  the  only  principle  which  had  power  to  preserve  its 
own  institutions,  amidst  the  inward  decay  or  outward 
destruction  of  every  institution  besides.  A  higher  and 
truer  manifestation  of  Christian  life  than  these  was  the 
steady  contest  carried  on  by  the  Church  against  slavery, 
not,  it  seems,  so  much  from  a  conscious  opposition  as  from 
an  unconscious,  instinctive  repulsion.  Frequently,  also, 
from  the  lives  of  saints  of  those  times,  we  find  them  im- 
poverishing themselves,  straining  every  means  of  influence, 
and  even  selling  church  plate  and  property,  to  purchase 
the  redemption  of  the  many  captives  made  in  those  days 
of  perpetual  warfare. 

Our  work,  however,  at  present,  is  with  the  manifesta- 
tions of  Christian  life  in  hymns,  rather  than  in  alms;  and 
among  the  names  of  the  hymn  writers  of  these  periods 
are  those  of  Gregory  the  Great,  Yenantius  Fortunatus, 
Bishop  of  Pcictiers,  and  the  Venerable  Eede. 

M.  Guizot,  in  his  "  Civilisation  in  Europe,"  mentions 
also,  amongst  the  sacred  poets  of  the  sixth  and  seventh 
centuries,  Avitus,  Bishop  of  Yienne,  but  he  seems  to  have 
been  rather  a  religious  poet  than  a  hymn  writer — rather 
a  writer  of  long  poems  on  scriptural  subjects,  than  one  of 
those  whose  hymns  flowed  on  into  the  one  great  song  of 
the  Church,  and  were  carried  on  the  sacred  stream  from 
age  to  age.  Were  we  in  search  of  sacred  poetry  rather 
than  of  hymns,  we  might  probably  find  more  of  this  in 
the  sermons  than  in  the  professedly  poetical  literature 
of  this  period  ;  at  least,  we  might  be  tempted  to  this  con- 
clusion by  comparing  the  following  extract  from  an  Easter 
sermon  of  Csesarius  of  Aries,  with  extracts  from  the  sacred 
poems  of  Avitus  : — 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  117 

"  Behold,"  he  says,  "  you  have  heard  what  of  His 
own  good  will  our  Redeemer  has  accomplished,  the 
Lord  of  vengeance.  When,  like  a  conqueror  resplendent 
and  terrible,  He  reached  the  land  of  darkness,  the  im- 
pious legions  of  hell,  affrighted  and  trembling,  began  to 
question  one  another,  saying,  i  Who  is  this  terrible  one 
shining  white  as  snow  V  Never  has  our  Tartarus  seen 
His  like — never  has  the  world  cast  into  our  abysses  any 
resembling  Him ;  He  is  an  invader,  not  a  debtor  \  He 
exacts,  but  demands  not ;  we  see  a  Judge,  not  a  sup- 
pliant \  He  comes  to  command,  not  to  yield ;  to  rescue, 
not  to  remain.  Were  our  porters  slumbering  when  this 
Conqueror  attacked  our  gates  %  If  He  were  a  sinner, 
He  were  not  so  mighty;  if  any  fault  sullied  Him,  He 
would  not  thus  illumine  our  darkness.  If  He  is  God, 
why  is  He  come  1  If  He  is  man,  how  has  He  ventured  ? 
If  He  is  God,  what  does  He  in  the  sepulchre  1  If  He  is 
man,  how  can  He  deliver  sinners  ?  Whence  comes  He, 
so  glorious,  so  strong,  so  dazzling,  so  terrible  ?  Who  is 
He  breaking  thus  boldly  through  our  frontiers,  not  only 
not  fearing  our  torments,  but  delivering  others  from  our 
chains  1  Can  this  be  He  of  whom  our  prince  so  lately 
said,  that  by  His  death  we  should  receive  the  empire  of 
the  universe  ?  But  if  this  be  He,  the  hopes  of  our  prince 
are  frustrated ;  when  he  thought  to  conquer,  he  has  been 
conquered  and  dethroned.  O  our  prince,  what  hast  thou 
done,  what  hast  thou  designed  to  do  ?  Behold,  this  One, 
by  His  lustre,  has  scattered  thy  darkness,  broken  thy 
dungeons,  burst  thy  chains,  delivered  thy  captives,  and 
changed  their  mourning  into  joy.'  " 

Csesarius  speaks  elsewhere  of  selfishness  as  the  root  of 


118       GREGORY  THE  GREAT,    VLNANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

evil,  and  love  as  the  root  of  all  good.  But  it  is  expressly 
with  hymns,  rather  than  with  religions  poetry,  that  we 
are  now  concerned ;  with  those  lyrical  bursts  of  song 
which  mark  the  flow  of  the  great  tide  of  Christian  life, 
rather  than  with  those  elaborate  compositions  which 
prove  only  the  thought  and  power  of  an  individual  mind. 
The  feature  which  M.  Guizot  considers  characteristic  of 
the  whole  literature  of  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries,  is 
characteristic  of  hymn  literature  in  all  ages.  "  The  cha- 
racter of  the  literature  of  this  period,"  he  writes,  "  was, 
that  it  ceased  to  be  a  literature  ;  it  had  become  an  action, 
a  power ;  it  sought  to  act  on  the  depths  of  the  soul,  to 
produce  real  effects,  genuine  reformations,  effectual  con- 
versions. It  was  not  so  much  a  sacred  eloquence  as  a 
spiritual  power." 

The  hymn  of  this  period  most  generally  familiar  to  us 
is  the  "  Yeni,  Creator  Spiritus,"  which  has  been  frequently 
attributed  to  Charlemagne,  but  which  Mone*  believes  to 
have  been  the  composition  of  Gregory  the  Great,  Bishop 
of  Rome,  a.d.  590.  An  extract  has  already  been  given 
from  one  of  Gregory's  sermons,  shewing  how  deeply  he 
was  affected  by  the  miseries  of  his  times.  He  was  no 
isolated  monk — no  solitary  ascetic,  occupied  merely  with 
the  salvation  of  his  own  soul  from  punishment ;  still  less 
was  he  a  mere  monastic  idler,  playing  at  turning  the 
mysteries  of  the  faith  into  ingenious  rhymes.  He  was  a 
man  who  had  borne  many  toils  and  many  honours  in  the 
world,  had  tried  the  tranquillity  of  a  monastery,  and 
who,  at  last,  ended  his  life  amidst  the  manifold  avocations 
of  the  bishopric  of  Rome,  an  office  which  then  professed 
*  u  Hynmi  Latini  Medii  iEvi." 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  11D 

to  combine  the  labours  of  a  Christian  minister  with 
those  of  a  civil  governor.  His  life  may  therefore  be 
regarded  as  no  especial  mountain-top  of  peculiar  sanctity, 
but  as  a  healthy  specimen  of  the  Christian  life  of  his 
times,  and,  in  connexion  with  brief  sketches  of  the  lives  of 
the  Venerable  Bede,  and  Fortunatus,  Bishop  of  Poictiers, 
may  give  us  some  outline  of  the  religious  history  of  the 
sixth  and  seventh  centuries. 

ISTeander  speaks  of  Gregory  the  Great  as  the  last  of  the 
classical  Doctors  of  the  Church,  as  forming  a  point  of 
transition  between  the  old  Roman  civilisation  and  the 
new  Teutonic  literature  and  civilisation,  which  were  to 
characterise  the  middle  ages.  He  seems  also  to  be  in  some 
measure  a  link  between  the  East  and  the  West,  standing 
as  he  did  in  connexion  with  many  Eastern  bishops,  al- 
though himself  ignorant  of  the  Greek  language.  Christen- 
dom was  not  yet  violently  severed  into  two  separate  bodies. 

His  early  training  was  not  ecclesiastical,  although  his 
first  religious  impressions  appear  to  have  been  early  re- 
ceived. He  was,  like  Ambrose,  of  a  patrician  Roman 
family ;  and  after  distinguishing  himself  in  the  'studies 
then  considered  befitting  his  rank,  being  versed  in  the 
Latin  classics,  which  were  his  national  literature,  and 
skilled  in  rhetoric,  he  was  appointed  by  the  Emperor, 
Justin  the  younger,  praetor  of  Rome.  He  held  this  office, 
diligently  discharging  its  duties,  until  he  had  reached  the 
age  of  forty.  Then,  possessed  of  a  fortune  looked  on  as 
unlimited,  and  with  every  avenue  to  political  distinc- 
tion open  to  him,  he  abandoned  all,  and  retired  into 
a  monastery.  His  character  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
in  the  slightest  clegreo  capricious  or  weak.     It  must  have 


120      GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

been  the  energy  of  a  nobler  ambition,  rather  than  any 
mere  weariness  of  the  world,  which  led  him  into  this  new 
path.  His  asceticism,  though  severe,  seems  to  have  been 
no  exaggerated  oriental  enthusiasm,  but  an  austere  self- 
restraint;  and  in  becoming  a  monk,  he  does  not  appear  to 
have  fled  from  the  active  to  the  contemplative  life,  but 
rather  to  have  entered  into  a  higher  sphere  of  activity. 
At  least,  whatever  may  have  been  his  intentions  in  thus 
retiring  from  the  world,  his  character  made  the  monastic 
life  such  to  him.  He  founded  six  monasteries — one  in 
his  father  s  palace  in  Rome ;  and  of  one  of  these  he  became 
abbot. 

At  the  death  of  the  bishop  or  pope,  Pelagius,  the  people 
took  him  by  force  to  make  him  pontiff.  These  forcible 
ordinations  are  so  frequent  in  the  lives  of  canonised  saints 
that  they  seem  to  be  merely  a  part  of  the  ordinary  cere- 
monial on  such  occasions.  Gregory's  character  must  have 
been  too  genuine  for  affectation,  and  appears  to  have  been 
too  strong  for  morbid  scruples.  At  all  events,  once  on 
the  episcopal  throne,  it  must  have  seemed  to  him  his 
natural  place,  and  he  acted  as  if  he  felt  so.  The  episcopate 
was  to  him  no  mere  place  of  precedence  in  a  ceremonial. 
Goethe  has  said,  "  Happy  the  people  when  the  govern- 
ment is  a  burden  rather  than  a  decoration  to  the  ruler  ;" 
and  to  Gregory  the  episcopal  see  of  Rome  was  certainly  a 
serious  weight,  although  one  under  which  the  strong  man 
marched  boldly  forward.  He  seriously  considered  him- 
self in  some  sense  the  responsible  head  of  Christendom; 
and  with  that  view,  whilst  he  firmly  resisted  the  claim  of 
the  Patriarch  of  Constantinople  to  the  title  of  "  universal 
bishop,"  and  rejected  the  same  title  for  himself,  he  called 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  121 

himself  servant  of  the  servants  of  God,  and  lived  as  such. 
Of  his  revenues  he  kept  the  strictest  account.  These 
accounts  were  preserved  for  three  hundred  years  in  the 
Vatican.  He  inspected  the  minutest  details  when  neces- 
sary, and  administered  all  as  a  just  steward  for  the  Church 
and  the  poor.  The  economy  of  charity  was  not  then 
studied  as  it  is  now,  and  perhaps  Gregory's  alms,  whilst 
relieving  much  real  distress,  created  some  idle  mendi- 
cancy; but  in  those  days  of  Lombard  invasions  and  Frank- 
ish  devastations,  the  wisest  charity  could  scarcely  extend 
beyond  supplying  the  wants  of  the  day  and  repairing  the 
desolations  of  the  past ;  and  this,  by  maintaining  the 
poor,  and  ransoming  many  captives,  Gregory  faithfully  did. 
Some  poor  old  men  once  came  to  him  from  Ravenna ;  he 
asked  them  how  they  had  been  helped  on  their  journey, 
and  finding  that  aid  had  been  refused  them  by  Marinian, 
the  new  Bishop  of  Ravenna,  once  a  monk  in  the  same 
monastery  with  himself,  he  wrote  to  a  friend  to  admonish 
him  thus : — "  I  am  surprised  that  one  who  has  clothes,  who 
has  silver,  who  has  a  cellar,  should  have  nothing  to  give 
to  the  poor.  Tell  him  that  with  his  position  he  must  also 
change  his  way  of  life.  Let  him  not  think  that  reading 
and  prayer  are  enough  for  him  now,  nor  that  he  should 
sit  solitary  in  a  corner  without  bringing  forth  fruit  in 
action.  He  must  help  those  who  suffer  need,  and  regard 
the  wants  of  strangers  as  his  own ;  otherwise,  the  title  of 
bishop  is  for  him  an  empty  name."  These  words,  with 
the  following,  may  give  some  idea  of  his  own  labours  : — 
"  I  must  care,"  he  writes,  "  at  once  for  the  bishops  and 
the  clergy,  the  monasteries  and  the  churches,  must  be 
vigilant  against  the  snares  of  enemies,  and  ever  on  my 


122       GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

guard  against  the  treachery  and  wickedness  of  those  in 
authority."  His  correspondence  extended  from  Alexan- 
dria to  England,  including  a  Lombard  queen,  an  Eastern 
emperor  and  patriarch,  and  the  missionary  Augustine. 
His  objects  were  practical ;  petitioning  for  the  oppressed, 
resisting  unjust  claims,  exhorting  to  fervour  in  evangelis- 
ing labours.  His  alms-giving,  conscientious  and  extensive 
as  it  was,  must  in  itself  have  been  a  calling ;  but  he  be- 
lieved the  love  that  gave,  and  not  the  thing  given,  to  be 
the  true  alms.  "  The  man  is  incomparably  better,"  he 
wrote,  "  than  the  thing ;"  and  love  he  spoke  of  as  "  the 
root  of  every  virtue,  and  the  bond  which  binds  all  graces 
into  one."  With  him  spiritual  blessings,  either  in  giving 
or  receiving,  far  outweighed  temporal.  He  writes,  "  It 
is  written,  'Let  him  that  heareth  say,  Come.'  Whoever  has 
heard  the  voice  of  heavenly  love  in  his  heart  may  speak 
words  of  exhortation  to  his  neighbour.  He  may  perhaps 
have  no  bread  to  give  to  the  needy,  but  there  is  something 
greater,  which  every  one  who  has  a  tongue  can  give.  For 
it  is  more  to  refresh  the  soul  destined  to  eternal  life  by 
the  nourishment  of  the  word,  than  to  satisfy  the  mortal 
body  with  earthly  bread.  Thus,  my  brethren,  withhold 
not  from  your  neighbour  the  alms  of  the  word."  He 
himself  continued  to  preach  when  the  Lombard  armies 
carried  their  devastations  close  to  the  walls  of  Rome, 
whilst,  as  one  of  the  great  vassals  of  the  Eastern  empire, 
he  did  his  best  to  secure  the  defence  of  the  city. 

We  all  know  the  beautiful  story  of  his  going  into  the 
slave  market  at  Home,  and,  touched  with  the  beauty  of 
some  English  slaves  there,  exclaiming,  "  If  they  were 
Christians,  they  were  not  Angles  but  angels;"  a  sacred 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  123 

pity  which  never  left  his  heart  until  he  sent  Augustine,  a 
Roman  abbot,  and  several  fellow-labourers  as  missionaries 
to  England.  Nor  was  he  content  writh  mere  external  con- 
versions. On  hearing  of  the  conversion  of  Reccared,  the 
Visigothic  King  of  Spain,  from  the  Arian  to  the  Catholic 
faith,  he  wrote  to  Leander,  Bishop  of  Seville,  exhorting 
him  to  see  that  the  king  proved  himself,  by  his  works,  a 
true  citizen  of  the  eternal  kingdom. 

He  earnestly  pressed  on  all,  clergy  and  laity,  the  study 
of  the  Bible.  He  said  the  sacred  words  should,  by  con- 
tinual intercourse,  penetrate  into  our  being.  "  We  must 
receive  through  the  Spirit  in  reading  what,  when  occa- 
sion serves,  we  must  prove  in  suffering."  He  himself 
must  have  found  the  Scriptures  his  counsellor ;  for  he 
writes,  "  God  does  not  answer  individual  minds  by  special 
voices,  but  he  has  so  arranged  His  Word  as  to  answer  all 
questions  thereby.  The  answer,  *  My  grace  is  sufficient 
for  thee,'  was  given  to  Paul  that  it  need  not  be  particu- 
larly repeated  to  each  one  of  us.  God  does  not  now  an- 
swer us  by  angelic  ministrations  or  special  prophetic 
voices,  because  the  Holy  Scriptures  include  all  that  is 
necessary  to  meet  individual  cases,  and  are  constructed  so 
as  to  mould  the  life  of  later  times  by  the  example  of  the 
earlier."  He  believed,  also,  that  the  further  Christian  men 
advance  in  the  divine  life  the  deeper  insight  do  they  gain 
into  their  own  un worthiness.  "  For  every  one,"  he  writes, 
"  is  revealed  to  himself  when  he  becomes  enlightened  by 
contact  with  the  true  light.  In  learning  what  holiness  is, 
he  learns  also  what  guilt  is."  His  heart  and  judgment 
were  against  persecution ;  and  although,  in  the  case  of 
heretics,  he  sometimes    recommended  very  strong  con- 


124        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

straint,  he  especially  and  repeatedly  defended  the  Jews 
against  fanatical  oppression.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that 
the  man  who  could  speak  and  live  words  like  the  follow- 
ing is  the  author  of  the  hymn  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  pre- 
served alone  of  all  the  ancient  metrical  hymns  in  our 
Church  services  : — 

"  Oh  what  a  consummate  artist  is  the  Spirit !  No  sooner 
does  He  touch  the  soul  than  His  touch  is  itself  a  teaching; 
for  at  one  and  the  same  time  He  enlightens  and  converts 
the  human  heart;  it  suddenly  turns  stranger  to  what  it 
was,  and  becomes  what  it  was  not." 

The  work  of  his  with  which  his  name  is  most  fre- 
quently associated,  if  we  except  the  mission  of  Augustine 
to  Canterbury,  is  the  improvement  or  introduction  of  the 
Church  music  known  as  Gregorian.  He  is  said  to  have 
collected  the  ancient  melodies,  both  of  the  East  and  West, 
and  so  combined,  or  so  introduced  them,  that  his  name  is 
as  closely  associated  with  them  as  that  of  St  Ambrose  with 
the  psalmody  of  the  Western  Church. 

So  much  of  the  faith  which,  united  to  the  source  of 
life,  worketh  by  love,  dwelt  in  the  heart  and  shone  in  the 
life  of  Gregory  the  Great,  Bishop  of  Rome;  so  much  of 
the  truth  which  inspired  St  Paul  and  set  Augustine  free, 
actuated  him. 

Of  Augustine's  writings  he  was  a  diligent  student,  and 
was,  Neander  says,  "  the  great  means  of  transmitting  the 
truths  they  contained  to  later  times."  But  Gregory  was 
no  inspired  man,  and  much  of  the  dark  local  colouring  of 
his  times,  as  well  as  much  of  the  pure  light  of  Heaven,  is 
mirrored  in  his  life.  An  earthly  order  of  priests,  invoca- 
tion of  saints,  an  elaborate  ceremonial,  were  also  part  of 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  125 

his  creed;  and  since  all  error  is  of  the  nature  of  darkness, 
to  the  extent  these  prevailed  within  him  the  joyful  light 
was  absent. 

Such  a  belief  as  he  had  in  the  efficacy  of  external  rites, 
in  the  eucharist  as  a  purifying  sacrifice,  in  the  power  of 
the  invocation  of  saints,  the  mediation  of  a  human  priest- 
hood, the  protection  of  relics,  and  the  sanctity  of  monas- 
ticism,  could  scarcely  exist  in  any  mind  without  lessening 
the  joy  which  the  truth  he  did  believe  should  have  given 
him.  And  we  find  that  it  was  so.  The  shadow  of  the 
false  system  which  was  slowly  rising  out  of  the  depths  lay 
on  his  present  peace  and  his  future  hopes.  To  Gregoria, 
a  lady  of  the  imperial  court,  who  had  written  to  him  to 
say  that  she  could  have  no  peace  until  Gregory  would 
assure  her,  by  a  special  revelation,  that  her  sins  were  for- 
given, he  replied,  that  the  thing  she  asked  was  both  diffi- 
cult and  unprofitable ;  difficult,  because  he  was  unworthy 
of  a  special  revelation,  and  unprofitable,  because  it  was 
not  till  the  last  day  of  her  life,  when  no  more  time  was 
left  to  weep  over  her  sins,  she  ought  to  have  the  assurance 
they  were  forgiven.  Till  then,  distrustful  of  herself, 
trembling  for  herself,  she  should  always  fear  on  account 
of  her  sins,  and  seek  to  cleanse  herself  from  them  by  daily 
tears.  Different,  indeed,  from  the  Saviours  "  Go  in 
peace;"  St  Paul's  "  Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace 
with  God;"  St  John's  "  These  things  have  I  written  unto 
you  that  believe  on  the  name  of  the  Son  of  God,  that  ye 
may  know  that  ye  have  eternal  life."  And  further  still 
the  shadow  of  these  errors  was  projected,  even  beyond 
death ;  till  in  its  baleful  presence  the  sleep  in  Jesus  was 
transformed  into  the  writhings  in  the  fire  of  purgatory. 


126        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

The  faith  must  have  been  real  and  strong  which,  whilst 
such  errors  were  thronging  round,  pierced  through  them 
all,  and  received  life  from  touching  Jesus.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  falsehoods  which  could  thus  darken  such 
faith  are  no  mean  foes  for  us  to  have  been  delivered  from. 
Need  there  is,  therefore,  all  the  more,  for  each  one  of  us, 
in  this  misty  world,  amid  the  many  dangers  which  sur- 
round us,  to  recall  Gregory's  hymn — 

VENI,  CREATOR  SPIRITUS. 

Come,  Holy  Ghost,  our  souls  inspire, 
And  lighten  with  celestial  fire. 

Thou  the  anointing  Spirit  art, 

Who  dost  Thy  seven- fold  gifts  impart. 

Thy  blessed  Unction  from  above, 
Is  comfort,  life,  and  fire  of  love. 

Enable  with  perpetual  light 
The  d ulness  of  our  blinded  sight. 

Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled  face 
With  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace. 

Keep  far  our  foes,  give  peace  at  home : 
Where  Thou  art  guide,  no  ill  can  come. 

Teach  us  to  know  the  Father,  Son, 
And  Thee,  of  both,  to  be  but  One, 

That,  through  the  ages  all  along, 
This  may  be  our  endless  song; 

Praise  to  Thine  eternal  merit, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit! 

About  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Gregory  the  Great  at 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  127 

Home,  Venantius  Forfcunatus  had  reached  his  twentieth 
year  in  the  north  of  Italy.      The  two  men  might  serve  as 
specimens  of  the   reverse  sides   of  monastic  life.      Like 
Gregory,   Fortunatus    spent    his   early   and    middle    life 
among  the  laity,  not,  indeed,  in  laborious  civil  offices, 
"but  in  a  gay,  literary  idleness.     Among  the  last  of  the 
Latin  verse  writers,  or  among  the  first  of  the  troubadours, 
he  wandered  from  castle  to  palace  until  he  paused  at  the 
bridal  of  Sigebert,  first  king  of  Austrasia,  and  wrote  his 
epithalamium.     Welcome  everywhere,  entering  into  the 
family  festivities    of  his  hosts,  and   celebrating  courtly 
marriages  and  festivals,  with  easy  verses,  a  light,  debon- 
naire,  kindly  nature,  liberally  endowed  with  the  faculty 
of  enjoying,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  child  of  the  South 
in  his  capacity  for  the   dolce  far  niente  rather  than  in 
the  stormy  passions  which  often  flash  and  sweep  so  sud- 
denly over  those  sunny  southern  natures.     With  a  heart 
that  could  lie  still,  and  find  its  life  in  reflecting  the  life  of 
others,   he   appears   to    have   passed   safely  through    the 
temptations  of  courtly  revelries  and  dangerous  intimacies, 
like   a  glass   mirror,  coloured  and  illuminated   by  every 
passing  event,  and  ruffled  by  none.     We  only  hear  of  one 
very   close  intimacy   of  his,  and  that   was  with  Queen 
Ithadegunda,  the  wife  of  Clotaire.     This  lady  was,  at  the 
time  of  this  friendship,  separated  from  her  husband,  and 
her  influence  over  Eortunatus  was  so  great  as  entirely  to 
turn   at   least   the   outward  current  of  his  life.      After 
becoming  acquainted  with  her,  he  was  consecrated  a  priest, 
and  was  made  almoner  of  a  monastery  at  Tours,  which 
she  had  founded,  and  where  she  resided.     Not  a  shadow 
of  scandal  has,  however,  been  thrown  over  this  intimacy 


128        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTOTATUS, 

by  French  historians,  in  other  cases  not  remarkable  for 
the  charity  which  thinketh  no  evil. 

Fortunatus  seems  to  have  continued  the  same  easy, 
light-hearted,  contented  being  as  before  his  adopting  the 
religious  habit.  The  twenty-seven  poems  which  he  ad- 
dressed to  Saint  Hhadegunda  and  the  Abbess  Amies  were 
inspired  neither  by  their  beauty  nor  their  virtues,  but  by 
their  sweetmeats  and  their  fruits.  Saint  Rhadegunda 
sends  him  some  milk,  and  he  writes  to  her,  "  In  the  midst 
of  my  fasts"  (fasts  which,  from  his  own  account,  seem  to 
have  been  rather  medicinal  than  penitential)  "  you  send 
me  various  dishes,  and  with  the  sight  you  put  my  mind 
to  torture.  My  eyes  contemplate  wdiat  the  physician 
forbids,  and  his  hand  interdicts  what  my  mouth  desires. 
When,  however,  your  goodness  gratifies  us  with  this  milk, 
your  gifts  surpass  those  of  kings.  Rejoice,  then,  I  pray, 
like  a  good  sister,  with  our  pious  mother,  for  at  this 
moment  I  enjoy  the  sweet  pleasure  of  being  at  table." 

At  the  same  time,  Fortunatus  has  written  three  hymns 
which  have  taken  root  in  the  heart  of  Christendom,  and 
have  been  chanted,  often  doubtless  with  deep  and  solemn 
feeling,  during  many  centuries — the  "  Yexilla  regis  pro- 
deunt,"  the  *'  Pange  lingua  gloriosi  prcelium  certaminis," 
and  the  "  Salve  festa  dies."  These  verses  are  indeed  not 
free  from  a  fanciful  imagery  far  removed  from  the  deep 
and  simple  earnestness  of  the  Ambrosian  hymns.  The 
little  elegancies  of  literary  retirement  play  about  them  ; 
the  silver  trappings  of  legend  and  fancy  make  music 
round  them  as  they  go.  Compared  with  those  grand  old 
sacred  battle-songs,  they  have  too  much  of  the  glitter  of 
the  tournament  on  them.    Yet,  beneath  all  this,  they  have 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  129 

a  tender  and  solemn  pathos,   and,  compared  with  some 
similar  compositions  of  later  times,  are  simple  and  true. 

Of  the  outer  life  of  Fortunatus  we  know  nothing, 
except  on  its  lighter  side ;  of  his  spiritual  life  we  know 
nothing,  except  through  his  hymns.  The  intermediate 
tones  are  wanting  in  the  picture,  and  necessarily  the 
effect  is  jarring.  Yet,  why  should  we  believe  his  hymns 
to  be  unreal  ?  If  all  records  of  the  life  of  Cowper  had 
perished  except  "  John  Gilpin,"  "  Lines  on  the  Receipt  of 
a  Hamper,"  and  some  playful  letters  to  Lady  Austin  on 
the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  his  beautiful  hymn, 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way," 
might  we  not  have  some  difficulty  in  reconciling  the 
fragments  %  Yet,  we  know  that  Cowper's  piety  was  as 
genuine  as  his  playfulness ;  and  if  the  piety  of  Fortunatus 
was  less  simple,  and  his  playfulness  less  graceful,  we  must 
remember  that  he  was  a  monk,  and  lived  before  the 
Reformation.  No  healthy  fireside  influences  were  around 
him,  to  draw  him  continually  out  of  self  by  the  mutual 
kindnesses  and  forbearances  of  home  life  ;  no  family  affec- 
tions, binding  youth  to  age  in  happy  unity ;  no  old  age, 
green  with  memories  of  early  unbroken  love — not  even 
Mrs  Unwin  and  Lady  Hesketh,  the  tea-table,  the  sofa,  and 
the  hares.  Abbesses  and  canonised  saints  were  the  sharers 
cf  Fortunatus'  harmless  pleasantries ;  and  we  must  not 
wonder  if  the  pleasantries  were  more  artificial,  and  the 
feelings  from  which  they  were  the  rebound  less  real. 

At  all  events,  the  four  hymns  by  Fortunatus  which 
follow  have  been  the  channels  of  the  devotions  of  cen- 
turies, and  it  is  chiefly  on  this  account  that  their  trans- 
lation has  been  here  attempted  : — 


130        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,   VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 


CRUX   BENEDICTA  KITET   DOMINUS   QUA   CARNE   PEPENDIT. 

The  blessed  Cross  shines  now  to  us  where  once  the  Saviour 

bled, 
Love  made  Him  victim  there  for  us,  and  there  His  blood  was 

shed. 

And  with  His  wounds  our  wounds  He  heal'd,  and  wash'd  our 

sins  away, 
And  rescued  from  the  raging  wolf  the  lost  and  helpless  prey. 

There,  with  transfixed  palms,  He  hung,  and  saved  the  world 

from  loss ; 
And  closed  the  bitter  way  of  death  by  dying  on  the  Cross  ! 

Those  hands  w7ere  pierced  with  cruel  nails,  fix'd  till  His  dying 

breath — 
The  hand  that  rescued  Paul  from  crime,  and  Peter  once  from 

death  ! 

O  rich  and  fruitful  branches  !  0  sweet  and  noble  Tree  ! 
What  new  and  precious  fruit  hangs  for  the  world  on  Thee, 

Whose  fragrance  breathes  the  breath  of  life  into  the  silent 

dead, — 
Gives  life  to  those  from  whom,  long  since,  earth's  pleasant  light 

had  fled ! 

No  summer  heat  has  power  to  scorch  who  in  thy  shadow  rest; 
No  moonlight  chill  can  harm  at  night,  no  burning  noon  molest. 

Planted  beside  the  water-flood,  unshaken  is  thy  root ; 

Thy  branch  shall  never  fade,  and  in  all  seasons  be  thy  fruit : 

For  round  thine  arms  entwining  is  the  true  and  living  Vine, 
And  from  that  blood-stain'd  stem  distils  the  new  and  heavenly 
wine! 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  131 


VEXILLA   REGIS   PRODEUNT. 

The  Banner  of  the  King  goes  forth, 
The  Cross,  the  radiant  mystery, 

Where,  in  a  frame  o '  human  birth, 
Man's  Maker  suffers  on  the  Tree. 

Fix'd  with  the  fatal  nails  to  death, 

With  outstretch'd  hands  and  pierced  feet ; 

Here  the  pure  Victim  yields  His  breath, 
That  our  redemption  be  complete. 

And  ere  had  closed  that  mournful  day, 
They  wounded  with  the  spear  His  side  : 

That  he  might  wash  our  sins  away, 

His  blood  pour'd  forth  its  crimson  tide! 

The  truth  that  David  learn'd  to  sing, 
Its  deep  fulfilment  here  attains  : 

"  Tell  all  the  earth  the  Lord  is  King  !" 
Lo  !  from  the  Cross,  a  King  He  reigns. 

O  most  elect  and  pleasant  Tree, 
Chosen  such  sacred  limbs  to  bear, 

A  royal  purple  clotheth  thee — 
The  purple  of  His  blood  is  there  ! 

Blest  on  whose  arms,  in  woe  sublime, 

The  Bansom  of  the  ages  lay, 
Outweighing  all  the  sins  of  Time, 

Despoiling  Satan  of  his  prey. 

A  fragrance  from  thy  bark  distils 
Surpassing  heavenly  nectar  far  ; 

The  noblest  fruit  thy  branches  fills, 
Weapon  of  the  victorious  war. 


132       GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

Hail  altar,  Victim  hail  once  more  ! 

That  glorious  Passion  be  adored  ! 
Since  death  the  Life  Himself  thus  bore, 

And  by  that  death  our  life  restored ! 

There  is  certainly  a  great  contrast  between  the  view 
taken  in  these  hymns  of  the  Cross  itself,  as  the  instru- 
ment of  the  Passion,  and  that  taken  in  the  earlier  hymns 
and  in  the  New  Testament.  In  the  Bible  it  is  called  the 
accursed  tree.  In  the  earlier  Christian  hymns  it  is  more 
than  once  spoken  of  as  the  patibulum  *" — the  gallows — and 
viewed  with  horror,  as  the  instrument  of  the  humiliation 
and  torture  of  the  Lord.  This  feeling  is  surely  the 
deeper,  implying  a  more  real  comprehension  of  the  cost 
at  which  we  were  redeemed.  In  later  days,  when  the 
cross  ceased  to  be  known  as  an  instrument  of  torture,  and 
was  regarded  only  as  a  sacred  symbol,  the .  glory  of  the 
victory  there  won  was  reflected  back  on  it,  and  it  was 
honoured  as  a  warrior  might  honour  his  sword,  or  an  old 
Viking  his  bark,  though  with  a  more  solemn  and  reverent 
emotion,  as  the  weapon  of  the  Great  Victory.  From  this, 
superstition  descended  to  far  lower  depths,  till  the  sup- 
posed wood  of  the  Cross  was  worshipped.  It  is  a  signi- 
ficant fact  that  the  last  two  verses  of  the  hymn  of  Fortu- 
natus  here  translated,  are,  in  the  Roman  Breviary,  re- 
placed by  these  words  : — "  Hail,  Cross,  only  hope  in  this 
season  of  the  Passion!  give  to  the  pious  justice,  to  the 
guilty  give  pardon." 

In  the  following  hymn  this  sentimental  honouring  of 
the  Cross  is  carried  yet  further  than  in  the  two  preceding 
hymns.     The  second  and  third  verses  probably  refer  to  a 

*  Translated  usually  in  this  volume,  u  accursed,  or  shameful  tree." 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  133 

legend  current  in  the  middle  ages,  which  ran  thus : — When 
Adam  died,  Seth  obtained  from  the  guardian  cherubim  of 
Paradise  a  branch  of  the  tree  from  which  Eve  ate  the  for- 
bidden fruit.  This  he  planted  on  Golgotha,  called  the 
place  of  a  skull,  because  Adam  was  buried  there.  From 
this  tree,  as  the  ages  rolled  on,  were  made  the  ark  of  the 
testimony,  the  pole  on  which  the  brazen  serpent  was  lifted 
up,  and  other  instruments  ;  and  from  its  wood  at  length, 
then  growing  old  and  hard,  was  made  the  Cross.  And 
thus  from  the  tree  of  death  sprang  the  tree  of  life. — As 
an  allegory  the  story  is  beautiful,  and  although  the  feeling 
of  the  following  hymn  may  be  less  genuine  than  that  of 
some  others,  the  homage  is  surely  not  yet  transferred  from 
the  Crucified  to  the  Cross.  The  light  which  gilds  the 
tree  of  death  still '  seems  to  flow  from  Him  who  suffered 
there  : — 

PANGE  LINGUA  GLORIOSI  PR03LIUM  CERTAMINIS. 

Spread,  my  tongue,  the  wondrous  story  of  the  glorious  battle 

far, 
What  the  trophies  and  the  triumphs  of  the  Cross  of  Jesus 

are, 
How  the  Victim,  immolated,  vanquish'd  in  that  mighty  war. 

Pitying  did  the  great  Redeemer  Adam's  fall  and  ruin  see, 
Sentenced  then  to  death  by  tasting  fruit  of  the  forbidden  tree, 
And  he  mark'd  that  wood  the  weapon  of  redeeming  love  to 
be. 

Thus  the  scheme  of  our  redemption  was  of  old  in  order  laid, 
Thus  the  wily  arts  were  baffled  of  the  foe  who  man  betray 'd, 
And  the  armour  of  redemption  from  Death's  armoury  was 
made. 


134        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

When  the  promised  sacred  fulness  of  the  times  at  length  was 

come, 
From  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  from  the  royal  heavenly  home, 
Came  to  earth  the  world's  Creator,  offspring  of  the  Virgin's 

womb ! 

Laid  an  infant  in  the  manger,  in  the  stable  poor  and  dim, 
Wrapp'd  in  swaddling-clothes  enfolding  every  helpless  infant 

limb, 
Thus  the  blessed  Virgin  Mother  mother's  care  bestow'd  on 

Him, 

Till  the  thirty  years  were  finish'd,  when  the  sacrifice  should  be  : 
Born  for  this,  for  this  prepared,  He  gave  Himself  an  off 'ring 

free, 
On  the  Cross  the  Lamb  was  lifted,  immolated  on  the  tree. 

Thorns  and  vinegar  and  gall,  nails  and  spear  and  bitter  rood, 
Thus  His  sacred  limbs  were  wounded,  thus  He  shed  that  stream 

of  blood, 
Earth  and  ocean,  stars  and  all  things,  cleansing  in  its  precious 

flood ! 

Faithful  Cross  !  of  all  earth's  produce  only  rich  and  noble  tree, 
No  such  flower,  or  leaf,  or  fruitage,  we  in  all  the  world  can  see ; 
Sweet  to  us  thy  wood  and  nails,  for  sweetest  weight  is  hung 
on  thee. 

Bend  thy  branches,  lofty  Tree,  and,  yielding,  let  thine  arms 

extend, 
Let  the  rigour  of  thy  nature,  soften'd,  tenderly  unbend, 
Since  the  King  of  kings  Eternal  on  thine  arms  they  thus  sus- 
pend. 

Thou  alone  wast  meet  the  Ransom  of  the  ages  thus  to  bear, 
And  for  all  the  shipwreck 'd  world  a  port  of  refuge  to  prepare, 
With  that  sacred  blood  anointed  of  the  Lamb  shed  freely  there. 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  135 

From  a  poem  of  Fortunatus,  which  Daniel  calls  "  most 
sweet/'  "in  which,"  he  says,  "  the  poet  speaks  of  nature, 
born  again  in  the  spring-time,  as  welcoming  Christ  risen 
from  the  dead,"  the  following  ten  verses  were  extracted,  and 
have  been  sung  for  ten  centuries  as  an  Easter  hymn : — 

SALVE  FESTA  DIES  TOTO  VENERABILIS  ^EVO. 

Hail,  festal  day  !  ever  exalted  high, 
On  which  God  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky, 
Hail,  festal  day !  ever  exalted  high. 

See  the  fresh  beauty  of  the  new-born  earth, 
As  with  the  Lord,  His  gifts  anew  come  forth, 

Since  God  hath  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky. 

Christ,  after  suffering,  vanquish'd  Satan's  powers, 
Thus  dons  the  grove  its  leaves,  the  grass  its  flowers ; 
Hail,  festal  day !  ever  exalted  high. 

He  burst  the  bands  of  hell,  through  heaven  ascending. 
Sea,  earth,  and  sky,  to  God  their  hymns  are  sending, 

Since  God  hath  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky. 

The  Crucified  reigns  God  for  evermore, 
All  creatures  their  Creator  now  adore ; 

Hail,  festal  day !  ever  exalted  high. 

The  changing  months,  the  pleasant  light  of  days, 
The  shining  hours,  the  rippling  moments  praise, 

Since  God  hath  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky, 

Christ,  Maker  and  Redeemer—  Health  of  all — 
Only  begotten  Son — on  Thee  we  call ; 

Hail,  festal  day!  ever  exalted  high. 


136        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATU3, 

Thou,  seeing  man  sunk  in  the  depths  forlorn, 
To  rescue  man,  Thyself  as  man  wast  born  ; 

For  God  hath  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky 

Author  of  Life!  Death's  garments  round  Thee  lay; 
To  save  the  lost,  Thou  treadest  Death's  dark  way ; 
Hail,  festal  day !  ever  exalted  high. 

Let  Faith  to  the  sure  promise  lift  her  eyes ; 
The  third  day  dawns,  Arise,  my  Buried !  rise, 

For  God  hath  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky. 

From  hell's  imprison'd  shades  strike  off  the  chain, 
And  those  who  perish  from  the  depths  regain. 
Hail,  festal  day !  ever  exalted  high. 

Bring  back  Thy  face,  that  all  its  light  may  see, 
Bring  back  the  Day,  which  died  to  us  with  Thee, 

Since  God  hath- conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky 

Countless  the  hosts  Thou  savest  from  the  dead;. 
They  follow  free  where  Thou,  their  Lord,  hast  led. 
Hail,  festal  day !  ever  exalted  high. 

Taking  Thy  flesh  again,  to  heaven  Thou  farest ; 
Mighty  in  battle,  glorious  spoils  Thou  bearest, 

For  God  hath  conquer'd  hell,  and  rules  the  starry  sky. 

These  are  the  four  best  known  hymns  of  the  Italian 
Yenantius  Fortunatus,  one  of  the  last  poets  to  whom 
Latin  was  a  mother  tongue.  After  the  death  of  Queen 
Rhadegimda,  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Poictiers,  and  died 
about  the  close  of  the  sixth  century. 

The  Venerable  Bede,  the  third  hymn  writer  of  the 
period,  was  far  more  essentially  a  monk  than  either  Gre- 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  137 

gory  or  Fortunatus,  although  inflecting  the  brightest  side 
of  monastic  life  —  its  devout  tranquillity  and  studious 
retirement.  Born  at  Wearmouth,  near  Durham,  and 
brought  at  seven  years  old  to  a  monastery  near  his  birth- 
place, all  his  early  associations  must  have  been  of  the 
monastery,  not  of  the  home.  Study  his  labour,  books 
his  world,  letters  the  incidents  of  his  life,  from  the 
time  when  in  his  youth  he  removed  to  the  monastery  of 
Yarrow,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tyne,  not  an  event  is 
recorded  as  breaking  the  quiet  flow  of  his  days.  There  he 
read,  wrote,  and  prayed,  and  sang  hymns  to  his  Saxon 
harp,  and  recorded  the  history  of  his  people,  and  corre- 
sponded with  friends  in  all  parts  of  England  and  Europe ; 
and  there,  as  the  last  work  of  his  busy,  tranquil  life, 
he  translated  the  Gospel  of  John  into  Anglo-Saxon, 
finishing  it  amidst  the  sufferings  of  his  last  illness,  and 
dying  just  as  he  had  concluded  the  last  chapter.  He 
says  of  himself,  "I  have  used  all  diligence  in  the  study  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  in  the  observance  of  the  con- 
ventual rules  and  the  daily  singing  in  the  church  ;  it  was 
ever  my  joy  either  to  learn,  or  to  teach,  or  to  write  some- 
thing." His  monastic  retirement  was  no  idle  seclusion  : 
he  was  at  once  the  historian  and  the  teacher  of  his  times. 
England,  though  vexed  with  many  storms  of  her 
own,  was  in  those  days  little  agitated  by  the  tempests 
which  disturbed  the  Continent.  Since  the  days  when 
Gregory  the  Great  had  sent  Augustine  to  Kent,  an  eager 
desire  for  learning  had  sprung  up  among  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  and  many  crossed  the  sea  to  seek  instruction 
from  the  Irish  monks,  who  then  dwelt  apart  in  an  island 
of  peace — floods  of  Gothic  and  Saracen  invasion  rolling 


138        GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

by  in  the  distance.  From  the  East  also,  from  the  father- 
land of  St  Panl,  ere  the  old  fountain  was  quite  dried  up,  a 
teacher  came  to  England.  Theodore  of  Cilicia  was  ap- 
pointed Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  he  made  progresses 
through  the  country  to  teach  all  who  would  learn.  Bede 
collected  these  instructions,  and  treasured  them  up  for  his 
nation.  He  was  surrounded  by  scholars  who  revered  him 
and  kept  by  him  to  the  last.  From  one  of  these,  Cuth- 
bert,  Neander  (in  his  "Denkwiirdigkeiten  des  christlichen 
Lebens,")  extracts  the  following  account  of  his  deathbed, 
interesting  to  us  both  as  a  proof  of  the  simplicity  of  his 
faith,  and  as  an  illustration  of  the  hold  the  ancient  hymns 
had  on  the  hearts  of  Christian  men  of  his  time.  Cuthbert 
mentions  how  Bede  passed  the  last  weeks  of  his  life,  in  a 
sickness  which  brought  him  to  the  grave  A.D.  785,  in  his 
sixty-third  year.  The  scholar  writes,  "  He  lived  joyfully, 
giving  thanks  to  God  day  and  night,  yea  at  all  hours, 
until  the  Eeast  of  the  Ascension ;  every  day  he  gave 
lessons  to  us  his  pupils,  and  the  rest  of  his  time  he  occu- 
pied in  chanting  psalms.  He  was  awake  almost  the  whole 
night,  and  spent  it  in  joy  and  thanksgiving  ;  and  when  he 
awoke  from  his  short  sleep,  immediately  he  raised  his  hands 
on  high,  and  began  again  to  give  thanks.  He  sang  the 
words  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  c  It  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  living  God.'  He  sang  much  besides 
from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  also  many  Anglo-Saxon 
hymns.  He  sang  antiphons,  according  to  his  and  our 
custom  (the  ancient  custom  which  Ambrose  had  intro- 
duced among  the  people  from  the  East),  and  among  others 
this  one,  '  O  King  of  Glory,  Lord  of  power  !  who  this  day 
didst  ascend  a  victor  above  all  the  heavens,  leave  us  not 


AXD  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  139 

orphaned  behind  Thee,  but  send  to  us  the  promised  Spirit 
of  the  Father.  Hallelujah  !'  And  when  he  came  to  the 
words,  '  leave  us  not  orphaned  behind  Thee/  he  burst  into 
tears.  Then  in  an  hour  he  began  to  sing  again.  We 
wept  with  him ;  sometimes  we  read,  sometimes  we  wept, 
but  we  could  not  read  without  tears.  Often  would  he 
thank  God  for  sending  him  this  sickness,  and  often  would 
he  say,  *  God  chasteneth  the  son  whom  He  loveth.'  Often, 
too,  would  he  repeat  these  words  of  St  Ambrose,  '  I  have 
not  lived  so  that  I  should  be  ashamed  to  live  amongst 
you;  yet  neither  do  I  fear  to  die,  for  we  have  a  good  Lord.' 
Besides  the  lessons  which  he  gave  us,  and  his  psalm-sing- 
ing during  those  days,  he  composed  two  important  works 
— a  translation  of  the  Gospel  of  St  John  into  our  native 
tongue,  for  the  use  of  the  Church,  and  Extracts  from 
Isidore  of  Seville  ;  for  he  said,  '  I  would  not  that  my 
pupils  should  read  what  is  false,  and  after  my  death  should 
labour  in  vain.'  On  the  Tuesday  morning  before  Ascen- 
sion-day, his  sickness  increased,  his  breathing  became 
difficult,  and  his  feet  began  to  swell.  Yet  he  passed  the 
whole  day  joyfully,  dictating.  At  times  he  would  say, 
'  Make  haste  to  learn,  for  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  shall 
remain  with  you,  or  whether  my  Creator  will  not  soon  take 
me  to  Himself.'  The  following  night  he  spent  in  prayers 
of  thanksgiving.  And  when  Wednesday  dawned  he  de- 
sired us  diligently  to  continue  writing  what  we  had  begun. 
When  this  was  finished,  we  carried  the  relics  in  procession, 
as  is  customary  on  that  day.  One  of  us  then  said  to  him, 
6  Dearest  master,  we  have  yet  one  chapter  to  translate  : 
wdll  it  be  grievous  to  thee  if  we  ask  thee  any  further?' 
He  answered,  '  It  is  quite  easy ;  take  the  pen  and  write 


140       GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS, 

quickly.'  At  three  o'clock  he  said  to  me,  '  Run  quickly 
and  call  the  priests  of  this  convent  to  me,  that  I  may 
impart  to  them  the  gift  which  God  has  given  me.'  Then 
he  begged  every  one  of  them  to  offer  masses  and  to  pray 
for  him.  They  all  wept,  chiefly  for  that  he  said  that  in 
this  world  they  should  see  his  face  no  more.  But  they 
rejoiced  in  that  he  said,  1 1  go  to  my  Creator;  I  have  lived 
long  enough ;  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand,  for  I 
long  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ.'  Thus  did  he  live  on 
till  the  evening.  Then  that  scholar  said  to  him,  '  Dearest 
master,  there  is  only  one  thought  left  to  write.'  He 
answered,  *  Write  quickly.'  Soon  that  scholar  replied, 
1  Now  this  thought  also  is  written.'  He  answered,  '  Thou 
hast  well  said.  It  is  finished.  Raise  my  head  in  thy 
hand,  for  it  will  do  me  good  to  sit  opposite  my  sanctuary, 
where  I  was  wont  to  kneel  down  to  pray,  that  sitting  I 
may  call  upon  my  Father.'  So  he  seated  himself  on  the 
ground  in  his  cell,  and  sang  the  '  Glory  to  Thee,  O  God, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ; '  and  when  he  had  named 
the  Holy  Ghost,  he  breathed  his  last  breath." 

Such  was  the  calm  of  a  Christian's  deathbed  in  Eng- 
land eleven  hundred  years  ago. 

The  longest  of  the  Venerable  Bede's  hymns  is  a  com- 
parison of  the  six  days  of  creation  with  six  ages  of  the 
world ;  the  sixth  day,  in  which  Adam  was  created,  corre- 
sponding to  the  sixth  age,  in  which  "  He  by  whom  man 
was  created  Himself  became  man," — when,  as  Eve  was 
formed  out  of  the  side  of  the  sleeping  Adam,  the  bride  of 
Christ  also  was  raised  to  life  through  Him  who  slept  in 
death  upon  the  Cross.  The  seventh  age  was,  Bede  be- 
lieved, to  be  the  age  of  quietness,  when  Christ  shall  com- 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  141 

mand  the  Sabbath,  and  keep  it  with  His  own  ;  and  the 
eighth  age  is  to  be  "  sublime  above  all  the  ages,  when  the 
dead  of  the  earth  shall  arise,  and  the  just  shall  see  for 
ever  the  face  of  Christ,  and  be  like  the  angels  on  the 
heavenly  heights."  Two  other  hymns,  attributed  to  Bede 
by  Daniel,  may  be  translated  at  length : — 

ON  THE  ASCENSION  OF  THE  LORD. 

(Hymnum  canamus  glorice.) 

A  hymn  of  glory  let  us  sing  ; 

New  hymns  throughout  the  world  shall  ring ; 

By  a  new  way  none  ever  trod, 

Christ  mounteth  to  the  throne  of  God. 

The  apostles  on  the  mountain  stand — 
The  mystic  mount — in  Holy  Land  ; 
They,  with  the  Virgin-mother,  see 
Jesus  ascend  in  majesty. 

The  angels  say  to  the  eleven, 
"  Why  stand  ye  gazing  into  heaven  ? 
This  is  the  Saviour — this  is  He  I 
Jesus  hath  triumph'd  gloriously  I" 

They  said  the  Lord  should  come  again, 
As  these  beheld  Him  rising  then, 
Calm  soaring  through  the  radiant  sky, 
Mounting  its  dazzling  summits  high. 

May  our  affections  thither  tend, 
And  thither  constantly  ascend, 
Where,  seated  on  the  Father's  throne, 
Thee  reigning  in  the  heavens  we  own  I 

Be  Thou  our  present  joy,  O  Lord, 
Who  wilt  be  ever  our  reward  ; 


142        GREGORY  TIIE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FOKTUNATUS, 

And  as  the  countless  ages  flee, 
May  all  our  glory  be  in  Thee  ! 

ON  THE  INNOCENTS. 

(Hymnum  canentes  martyrum.) 
A  hymn  of  martyrs  let  us  sing, 
The  innocents  remembering, 
Of  whom  in  tears  was  earth  bereaved, 
But  heaven  with  songs  of  joy  received  ; 

Whose  angels  through  eternity 
The  heavenly  Father's  face  shall  see, 
And  to  His  grace  their  praises  bring — 
A  hymn  of  martyrs  let  us  sing. 

The  following  was  known  to  Bede,  and  as  such  may 
have  a  peculiar  interest,  besides  its  general  value  as  shew- 
ing the  way  in  which  the  judgment-day  was  pictured  to 
the  Christians  of  his  time  : — 

ON  THE  DAT  OF  JUDGMENT. 

Suddenly  to  all  appearing  the  great  day  of  God  shall  come, 
As  a  thief  at  darkest  midnight  on  an  unsuspecting  home ; 
Brief,  indeed,  shall  all  the  glory  of  this  age  be  seen  to  be, 
When  the  world  and  all  things  in  it  shall  have  vanish'd  visibly. 
Then  the  clangour  of  the  trumpet,  sounding  clear  from  depth 

to  height, 
All  the  dead  and  all  the  living  to  Christ's  judgment-seat  shall 

cite ; 
Dazzling   in    majestic  glory  shall   the   Judge   from   heaven 

descend, 
And  the  radiant  hosts  of  angels  worshipping  on  Him  attend. 
Blood-red  then  the  moon's  soft  lustre,  and  the  sun  grows  dark 

on  high ; 
Earth  from  end  to  end  shall  tremble,  pale  stars  falling  from 

the  sky ; 


AND  THE  VENERABLE  BEDE.  14:3 

Terrible,  before  the  presence  of  that  justest  Judge  outpouring, 
Flames  of  fire  the  earth  and  heavens  and  the  ocean's  depths 
devouring. 

On  His  throne,  sublime  enthroned,  shall  the  King  of  Glory  sit, 

Dreadful  hosts  of  mighty  angels  terribly  surrounding  it. 

At  His  right  hand  then  the  angels   the  elect  of   men  shall 

gather  ; 
While  the  wicked,  on  the  left  hand,  trembling,  herd  like  goats 

together. 
"  Come,  ye  blessed,"  He  will  say,  "and  enter  on  the  kingdom 

fair, 
By  the  Father's  love  prepared  for  you,  ere  the  ages  were. 
Ye  who  with  a  brother's  kindness  succour'd  Me,  distress'd 

and  poor, 
Rich  with  everlasting  riches,  reap  love's  guerdon  evermore." 
The  redeem'd  with  joy  exclaiming,  ask  Him,  "When,  O  Christ 

our  King, 
Did  wre  see  Thee  poor  and  needy,  and  to  Thee  our  succour 

bring  ?" 
Then  that    Mighty   Judge    shall    answer,    "  When  in  your 

humility, 
On  the  needy  home  and  raiment  ye  bestow'd,  ye  gave  it  me." 

Nor  will  He  the  bitter  sentence  of  the  wicked  long  delay, 
The  "  Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  from  my  presence  far  away; 
Me,  imploring  aid  and  pity,  have  ye  scornfully  rejected  ; 
Naked,  gave   to   me   no  clothing  ;  sick  and  poor,  my  wroes 

neglected." 
Then  the  wicked  cry,  astonished,  "  When,  0  great  and  glorious 

King, 
Did  we  see  Thee  sick  and  needy,  and  to  Thee  no  succour  bring  V 
And   that   mighty  Judge  sTiall  answer,   "When  ye,  in  your 

luxury, 
To  the  poor  refused  your  aid  and  pity,  ye  refused  it  Me." 


144     GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  VENANTIUS  FORTUNATUS,  ETC. 

Backward,  then,  the  wicked  rushing,  plunge  into  the  quench- 
less fire, 

Where  the  worm  shall  never  perish,  nor  the  raging  flame 
expire  ; 

Where  the  dark  infernal  prison  Satan  with  his  slaves  is 
keeping, 

Where  they  gnash  their  teeth  in  anguish,  where  are  ceaseless 
groans  and  weeping. 

But  the  faithful  to  the  heavenly  country  are  upborne  on  high, 
'Mid  the  band  of  happy  angels  in  the  kingdom  of  the  sky, 
To  Jerusalem  Celestial  blessed  citizens  they  come, 
"Vision"  true   "of   peace"   unfading,  and  their  bright  un- 
changing home, 
Where  the  multitudes  unnumber'd  gaze  on  Christ  the  King 

divine : 
See  Him  with  the  Father's  glory  evermore  resplendent  shine. 

Wherefore  all  the  wiles  and  malice  of  the  ancient  serpent  flee, 
Gold  and  luxury  and  weakness,  if  ye  in  that  home  would  be  ; 
Be  with  purity  engirded,  as  a  radiant  zone  complete, 
Let  your  lamps  be  brightly  shining,  and  go  forth  the  King  to 
meet. 


CHAPTER    VII, 


ST  BEIINAKD. 


IV ever  was  there  a  biography  which  more  fully  mirrored 
the  history  of  the  age,  and  at  the  same  time  more  truly 
reflected  the  light  common  to  all  ages  and  all  hearts, 
than  that  of  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  The  local  and  the 
sky  colour  are  wonderfully  blended  in  it.  It  is  at  once 
essentially  mediaeval  and  deeply  human;  it  is  probably 
the  one  because  it  is  the  other.  Bernard  was  no  con- 
templative philosopher  enthroned  on  high  above  the  per- 
plexities and  conflicts,  the  sympathies  and  errors  of  his 
time.  He  was  a  man  mingling  freely  with  his  fellow- 
men,  not  beckoning  them  up  to  him,  but  leading  them  on 
with  him,  and  pressing  on  with  them  —  often,  indeed, 
sharing  their  mistakes,  but  oftener  drawing  them  onward 
and  upward  with  himself,  by  the  common  attraction  of 
that  adored  Saviour  and  Son  of  man,  whose  charact - 
and  whose  redeeming  love  were  so  deeply  engraven  <  .. 
his  heart. 

He  was  born  a.d.  1091,  at  Fontaines,  near  Dijon,  of  a 
knightly  family.  His  early  training  was  received,  not 
from  monks,  but  from  his  mother,  the  Lady  Aletta;  and 
its  influence  seems  to  have  remained  on  him  through  his 


146  ST  BERNARD. 

life,  so  that  his  monastery  had  much  of  the  nature  of  a 
home.  His  childhood  was  spent  among  his  father's  vine- 
yards and  corn-fields  in  Burgundy,  with  five  brothers  and 
one  sister  for  his  playmates,  and  a  mother  s  eyes  watching 
them  all.  The  six  brothers  were  once  more  united  in 
after  life  under  the  roof  of  one  monastery. 

His  mother  had  consecrated  him  from  the  first  to  God. 
In  his  early  youth  he  was  sent  to  the  cathedral  school  of 
Chatillon-sur-Seine,  where  he  received  a  learned  educa- 
tion, and  acquired  Latin  enough  to  preach  extempore  in 
that  language  with  ease,  and  write  Latin  hymns  as  heart- 
felt and  unconstrained  as  if  they  had  been  spoken  in  his 
own  mother-tongue. 

Aletta  had  always  prayed  that  Bernard  might  become 
a  monk.  Much  of  her  own  life  was  spent  in  visiting  the 
poor  around  her,  succouring  the  many  sufferers  by  the 
petty  wars  of  those  lawless  times,  and  ministering  to  the 
wants  of  the  clergy.  Six  months  after  Bernard's  return 
from  the  school  at  Chatillon,  the  festival  of  St  Ambrose 
occurred,  on  which  Aletta  had  always  been  accustomed 
to  prepare  a  feast  for  the  neighbouring  clergy.  Her 
health  had  long  been  failing,  but  nevertheless  she  con- 
trived to  make  her  usual  hospitable  preparations,  and 
carried  on  her  ordinary  avocations  until  the  day  arrived. 
Then  she  was  too  weak  to  leave  her  bed,  but  she  insisted 
on  the  festivities  being  continued;  and,  when  the  repast 
she  had  prepared  but  could  not  share  was  over,  she  re- 
quested that  the  "  ministers  of  the  Lord"  would  visit  her 
in  her  room.  They  found  her  strength  almost  exhausted, 
and,  at  her  request,  recited  in  chorus  the  "  Litany  of  the 
Dying."     She  followed  them  with  her  failing  voice  to  the 


CONVERSION  OF  ST  BERNARD.  1-47 

words,  "  By  Thy  Cross  and  Passion,  Good  Lord,  deliver 
us/'  and  then,  signing  the  cross  on  her  breast,  she  sank 
back  and  ceased  to  breathe. 

Such  a  deathbed,  and  such  qnict  perseverance  in  loving 
services  to  the  last, 'sealed  his  mother's  vows  and  early 
teaching  on  Bernard's  heart.  We  cannot  wonder  that 
his  recollections  of  her  beloved  form  and  voice,  at  length, 
one  day  embodied  themselves  so  vividly  to  his  sense,  that 
he  paused  on  a  journey  to  join  his  eldest  brother  (then 
besieging  a  neighbouring  castle),  and,  entering  a  roadside 
church,  knelt  before  the  altar,  and  vowed  at  once  to  fulfil 
his  mother's  vow. 

This,  in  his  own  opinion,  was  the  turning-point  in  his 
life — his  conversion  from  the  world  to  God.  Of  that 
divine  object  which  thenceforward  possessed  his  heart, 
and  renewed  his  whole  nature,  he  himself  speaks  thus  in 
one  of  his  sermons  on  the  Canticles  :* — "  From  the  very 
begiuning  of  my  conversion,  my  brethren,  feeling  my  own 
deficiency  in  virtue,  I  appropriated  to  myself  this  nose- 
gay of  myrrh,  composed  of  all  the  pains  and  sufferings  of 
my  Saviour,  of  the  privations  to  which  He  submitted  in 
His  childhood,  the  labours  that  He  endured  in  His  preach- 
ing, the  fatigue  that  He  underwent  in  His  journey ings,  ok 
His  watchings  in  prayer,  His  temptations  in  fasting,  His 
tears  of  compassion,  of  the  snares  that  were  laid  for  Him 
in  His  words,  of  His  perils  among  false  brethren,  of  the 
outrages,  the  spitting,  the  smiting,  the  mocking,  the 
insults,  the  nails — in  a  word,  of  all  the  grief  of  all  kinds 
that  He  submitted  to  for  the  salvation  of  man.  I  have 
discovered  that  wisdom  consists  in  meditating  on  those 
*  See  Neander's  "  Liio  of  St  Bernard." 


148  RT  BERNARD. 

things,  and  that  in  them  alone  is  the  perfection  of  righte- 
ousness, the  plenitude  of  knowledge,  the  riches  of  salvation, 
and  the  abundance  of  merit.  In  these  contemplations 
I  find  relief  from  sadness,  moderation  in  success,  and 
safety  in  the  royal  highway  of  this  life,  so  that  I  march 
on  between  the  good  and  evil,  scattering  on  either  side 
the  perils  by  which  I  am  menaced.  This  is  the  reason 
why  I  have  always  these  things  in  my  mouth,  as  you 
know,  and  always  in  my  heart,  as  God  knoweth ;  they  are 
habitually  occurring  in  my  writings,  as  every  one  may 
see,  and  my  most  sublime  philosophy  is  to  know  Jesus 
Christ  and  Him  crucified." 

With  such  an  ideal  before  him,  which,  indeed,  is  no 
ideal,  but  fact  and  truth,  "perfect  God  and  perfect  man," 
Bernard  could  not  stoop  to  any  created  being  as  the  model 
of  bis  life  or  the  worship  of  his  heart,  and  he  did  not.  Medi- 
aeval as  he  was,  with  an  imagination  luxuriant  to  excess,  he 
opposed  himself  decidedly  to  the  institution  of  a  feast  in 
honour  of  the  immaculate  conception  of  Mary,  and  said, 
in  reference  to  it,  "  We  ought  not  to  attribute  to  Mary 
that  which  belongs  to  one  Being  alone,  to  Him  who  can 
make  all  holy,  and  being  Himself  free  from  sin,  purify 
others  from  it.  Besides  Him,  all  who  have  descended 
from  Adam  must  say  of  themselves  that  which  one  of 
them  says  in  the  name  of  all,  '  In  sin  did  my  mother 
conceive  me.' "  He  did,  indeed,  believe  Mary  to  have 
been  preserved  by  grace  from  all  sin;  but  the  interval 
between  such  an  opinion,  however  baseless,  and  the  asser- 
tion of  her  absolute  inherent  sinlessness  is  wide  indeed. 

Having  chosen  to  be  a  monk,  Bernard,  by  the  neces- 
sity of  his  ardent  nature,  chose  also  the  strictest  of  the 


THE  ABBEY  OF  CLAIRVAUX.  NO 

monastic  orders,  and  became  at  first  ascetic  to  the  utmost 
limits  of  human  endurance.  He  afterwards  regretted 
the  bodily  infirmities  which  these  austerities  had  brought 
on  him,  and  warned, others  against  them.  But  Bernard's 
was  the  kind  of  character  which  learns  by  trying  rather 
than  by  copying. 

After  spending  some  time  in  the  severest  convent  of 
his  age,  that  of  Stephen  Harding,  at  Citeaux,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-five  Bernard  was  chosen  leader  of  twelve  monks, 
who  were  sent  to  found  a  new  monastery. 

The  site  of  this  new  Abbey  was,  when  they  reached  it, 
called  the  Valley  of  Wormwood,  surrounded  by  pathless 
forests,  unfilled,  uncleared,  a  haunt  of  banditti  :  and  it 
was  not  until  after  many  months  of  hard  manual  labour 
that  Bernard  and  his  monks  wrung  even  their  daily  bread 
from  the  stony  soil,  or  contrived  any  shelter  for  themselves 
from  the  weather,  During  their  work,  they  were  silent 
or  sang  hymns  in  chorus  ;  and,  as  they  thus  toiled  and 
praised  God,  many  who  passed  by  felt  the  solemn  influence 
of  their  devotions  and  industry  ;  the  new  Abbey  rose  to 
the  sound  of  sacred  song,  and  in  time  the  Valley  of 
Wormwood  was  transformed  into  the  bright  Valley  of 
Clairvaux.  This  was  henceforth  Bernard's  home,  and 
here,  as  in  the  father's  house  of  their  childhood,  his  five 
brothers,  and  at  length  his  aged  father,  were  again  united 
under  one  roof. 

Many  of  the  fine  old  forest  trees  still  remained,  and 
Bernard  said  that  the  beeches  and  oaks  were  often  his 
teachers,  and  that  he  had  frequently  learned  more  from 
trees  and  rocks  than  from  books.  His  favourite  oratory 
was  a  quiet  bower,  twined  with  flowers,  in  a  recess  of 


150  ST  BERNARD 

the  valley ;  and  there  perhaps  he  wrote,  and  certainly  he 
Bang  in  his  heart,  his  hymns  to  Christ.  His  asceticism 
did  not  at  all  events  make  him  forget  that  nature  was  the 
handiwork  of  his  Father,  and  her  voices  broken  yet  true 
echoes  of  His.  Clairvaux  and  that  woodland  oratory 
were,  however,  only  resting-places  in  the  pauses  of  a  most 
busy  life.  He  moved  freely  about  in  the  world,  and 
when  he  retreated  to  his  Abbey  the  men  and  women  he 
had  helped  and  counselled  followed  him  thither,  in  person, 
or  with  letters,  and  made  his  retirement  only  the  centre 
of  fresh  labours.  It  is  well  known  how  fervently  he 
preached  the  crusade,  and  how  all  Europe  was  stirred  by 
his  appeals  ;  how  assembled  multitudes  throbbed  with  a 
common  impulse  as  that  emaciated  frame  and  those 
"dove-like"  yet  flashing  eyes  silently  enforced  the  plead- 
ings of  that  eloquent  voice  ;  how  kings  and  burghers, 
peaceful  men  and  blood-stained  warriors,  peasant  and 
noble,  the  criminal  and  the  devout,  wept  together,  and 
took  on  them  the  badge  of  the  Cross.  But  perhaps  it  is 
not  so  well  known  how  Bernard  looked  on  this  pilgrimage 
chiefly  as  the  means  of  spiritual  awakening,  and  valued 
even  the  recovery  of  the  sepulchre  from  the  Infidel  little 
in  comparison  with  the  recovery  of  souls  from  Satan. 
When  he  had  aroused  any  by  means  of  these  appeals  to 
the  deeper  enthusiasm  of  the  true  spiritual  crusade  to  be 
carried  on  at  home,  he  deemed  the  work  far  higher. 
Strongly  does  it  testify  to  his  Christ-like  character,  that, 
when  a  fanatical  monk  endeavoured  to  turn  the  crusading 
enthusiasm  against  the  Jews,  Bernard  threw  his  whole 
heart  into  endeavours  to  check  the  ferocities  which 
ensued,  and  did  not  rest  until  he  had  not  only  calmed 


AND  THE  PAPACY.  151 

the  rage  of  the  populace  and  stopped  the  persecution,  but 
convinced  the  instigator  of  it  of  his  error  and  sin. 

Constantly  he  acted  as  a  mediator  between  the  oppressor 
and  the  oppressed.  In  every  movement  and  controversy 
of  the  age  his  active  nature  shared;  it  can  scarcely  be 
hoped,  always  on  the  right  side.  He  was  against  Arnold 
of  Brescia,  Henri,  the  disciple  of  Peter  de  Bruys,  and  all 
reformers  who  stood  in  opposition  to  the  Church,  much, 
it  would  seem,  as  Luther  was  against  the  anabaptists  of 
his  time,  and  yet  their  best  objects  were  the  same.  Both 
desired  a  real  spiritual  reformation  of  the  Church,  and  if 
Bernard  hoped  too  much  from  the  ecclesiastical  institu- 
tions of  his  age,  perhaps  his  opponents  were  driven  into 
denying  institutions  appointed  by  Christ  Himself. 

His  ideal  of  the  Papacy  was  very  lofty  and  spiritual. 
He  would  have  had  secular  cares  and  dignities  trans- 
ferred to  secular  hands,  and  w^ould  have  made  the  Papal 
throne  a  judgment  seat,  not  between  one  covetous  man 
and  another  ("  Who  made  me  a  ruler  or  a  judge  over 
you?"  he  quotes  with  reference  to  this),  but  between  the 
oppressor  and  the  oppressed,  a  fountain  of  truth,  a  seat  of 
righteous  judgment,  where,  as  at  the  bar  of  God,  men 
should  be  known  not  as  noble  or  royal,  rich  or  poor,  but 
as  men.  How  little  this  ideal  was  ever  realised  history 
shews;  how  little  it  can  be  realised  by  a  ruler  with  limited 
intellect  and  sin-stained  heart  will  be  proved  when  He 
shall  come  "  whose  right  it  is."  None  felt  the  contradic- 
tion between  the  actual  and  the  ideal  in  this  instance 
more  strongly  than  Bernard  himself.  But  he  was  not  a 
man  to  defer  his  work  until  his  tools  were  perfect.  The 
time  was  short,  and  the  work  was  great ;  thus  he  worked 


152  ST  BERNARD 

on  with  such  instruments  as  he  had,  and  we  must  not 
wonder  if  the  result  sometimes  shews  traces  of  the 
imperfect  tools. 

It  is  strange  to  see  how  almost  all  religious  strifes  and 
theological  controversies  revolve  around  two  or  three 
points,  and  are  as  much  alike  from  age  to  age  as  the 
human  frame  is  beneath  its  countless  varieties  of  local 
or  historical  costume.  What  a  day  that  will  be  when  all 
the  combatants  for  existing  forms  against  innovations, 
and  for  spiritual  truth  against  forms  (all,  that  is,  who 
loved  their  Master  more  than  their  opinions),  shall  be 
reconciled  at  His  feet,  and  find  all  the  work  which  they 
unconsciously  united  in  doing  for  Him  recognised,  and  all 
the  work  they  unconsciously  did  in  opposition  to  each 
other  for  the  spirit  of  lies  and  malice  forgiven  ! 

Bernard  had  also  a  serious  theological  contest  with 
Abelard,  which  ended  in  the  excommunication  of  Abelard. 
The  extracts  given  from  it  in  JSTeancTer's  "  Church  His- 
tory "  might  almost  seem  to  be  taken  from  popular  books 
of  our  own  time.  Tt  was  on  the  nature  of  the  atonement, 
in  relation  to  the  love  and  justice  of  God.  Without 
entering  into  it,  the  following  passages  may  be  quoted 
from  St  Bernard,  to  shew  how  far — with  the  deepest  con- 
viction that  Jesus  died  in  our  stead,  and  that  "  His  blood 
cleanse th  from  all  sin  " — he  was  from  regarding  God  as 
an  avenging  Judge  instead  of  as  a  loving  Father.  In  answer 
to  the  question  thrown  out  by  Abelard,  whether  God 
could  not  have  redeemed  men  by  His  simple  will,  he  re- 
plies, "  We  cannot  fathom  the  sacrament  of  the  Divine 
will.  Yet  we  can  feel  the  effect  of  the  work,  we  can  be 
sensible  of  the  benefit.     Why  did  He  accomplish  that  by 


ON  THE  ATONEMENT.  153 

His  blood  which  He  might  have  accomplished  by  a  word? 
Ask  Himself.  It  is  vouchsafed  me  to  know  that  the  fact 
is  so,  but  not  the  wherefore."  In  allusion  to  the  scruple 
which  Abelard  expressed  about  admitting  that  God  re- 
quired the  blood  of  an  innocent  person,  Bernard  answers, 
"  It  was  not  the  death  of  Christ  in  itself,  but  the  will  of 
Him  who  freely  offered  Himself  that  was  acceptable  to 
God  •  and  because  this  precious  death,  procuring  the 
downfall  of  sin,  could  only  be  brought  about  by  sin,  so 
God  had  no  pleasure  in  the  sin,  but  used  it  for  good. 
God  did  not  require  the  death  of  His  Son,  but  accepted  it 
when  offered ;  He  did  not  thirst  for  man's  blood,  but 
for  man's  salvation."  He  concludes  with  this  remark, 
"  Three  things  here  meet  together,  the  humility  of  self- 
renunciation  ;  the  manifestation  of  love,  even  to  the  death 
of  the  cross  ;  the  mystery  of  redemption,  whereby  He 
overcame  death.  The  two  former  parts  are  nothing  with- 
out the  third.  The  examples  of  humility  and  love  are 
something  great,  but  have  no  firm  foundation  without 
the  redemption.""  These  words  may  serve  to  throw  a 
deeper  light  on  his  hymns  to  Christ  on  the  Cross. 

Bernard  was  not  a  mere  philanthropist,  his  friendships 
were  close  and  deep,  and  the  love  entertained  for  him  in 
return  was  very  strong.  His  first  converts  woe  anions 
his  kindred.  He  commenced  his  life  of  seclusion  with  a 
society  of  thirty  personal  friends.  His  family  circle  was 
formed  again  in  the  cloister,  and  his  father  died  in  his 
arms.  Every  day  he  explained  the  Bible  to  his  monks. 
Many  were  his  letters  of  faithful  counsel,  and  everywhere 
his  pathway  was  thronged  with  friends.  The  Abbe 
*  Neander's  "  Church  History,"  vol.  viii.     (Bohn's  edition). 


154  ST  BERNAKD. 

Suger,  prime  minister  of  France,  and  one  of  the  acutest 
statesmen  of  his  day,  aroused  to  thought  by  his  writings, 
reformed  his  Abbey,  and  on  his  death-bed  called  Ber- 
nard's letters  "  bread  of  consolation,"  and  longed  only 
to  see  his  face  once  more,  and  then  to  die.  Guillamme, 
abbot  of  St  Thierry,  was  so  fascinated  with  the  sweetness 
and  vivacity  of  his  discourse,  that,  "  could  he  have  chosen 
his  lot  among  all  the  world  had  to  offer,  he  would  have 
desired  nothing  else  than  to  remain  always  with  the  man 
of  God,  as  his  servitor."  Peter  the  Venerable,  abbot  of 
the  rival  monastery  of  Clugny,  declared  that  he  "  had 
rather  pass  his  life  with  Bernard  than  enjoy  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  world  ;  and  Hildebert,  archbishop  of  Treves, 
journeyed  to  Borne  to  entreat  the  Pope  to  relieve  him 
from  his  charge,  that  he  might  spend  the  rest  of  his  days 
at  Clairvaux.  Constantly  we  hear  of  his  "  angelic  coun- 
tenance," his  "  dove-like  eyes,"  of  the  gracious  kindness 
of  his  manner,  and  of  the  " benevolent  smile"  which 
habitually  lit  up  his  attenuated  countenance.  His  monks 
loved  him  as  their  father,  and  years  of  separation,  and 
the  dignity  of  the  papal  crown,  which  one  of  them 
(Eugenius)  attained,  could  not  weaken  the  tie.  Surely 
to  have  been  so  much  loved,  he  must  have  loved  much. 

But  his  dearest  and  closest  friendship  was  with  his 
brother  Gerard.  His  love  for  his  brother  was  almost 
motherly.  Gerard  at  length  became  seriously  ill.  Dar- 
ing his  illness,  the  abbot  wept,  and  watched,  and  suppli- 
cated his  restoration.  But  Gerard  died.  Bernard  folded 
up  his  grief  in  resolute  resignation,  and  saw  his  brother 
buried  without  a  tear.  The  monks  wondered  at  his  firm- 
ness, for  hitherto,  at  the  death  of  any  of  the  brotherhood, 


GERARD.  If)  5 

his  heart  had  overflowed  in  sorrow.  He  ascended  the 
pulpit  as  usual,  and,  repeating  the  text,  endeavoured 
calmly  to  continue  his  exposition  of  the  Canticles,  but 
old  recollections  rushed  on  his  heart,  and  overpowered 
him.  His  voice  was  lost  in  sobs,  and  for  some  minutes 
he  was  unable  to  proceed.  Then,  recovering  himself  a 
little,  and  feeling  the  hopelessness  of  further  restraint  at 
that  moment,  he  poured  out  his  grief  before  "  his  chil- 
dren," and,  in  the  most  touching  words,  entreated  their 
sympathy. 

'•'  Who,"  he  said,  u  could  ever  have  loved  me  as  he 
did  ?  He  was  a  brother  by  blood,  but  far  more  by  reli- 
gion  Thou  art  in  the  eternal  presence  of  the  Lord 

Jesus,  and  hast  angels  for  thy  companions  \  but  what 
have  I  to  fill  up  the  void  thou  hast  left  %  Fain  would  I 
know  thy  feelings  towards  me,  my  brother,  my  beloved  ; 
if,  indeed,  it  is  permitted,  to  one  bathing  in  the  floods  of 
Divine  radiance,  to  call  to  mind  our  misery,  to  be  occu- 
pied with  our  grief.  Yet  God  is  love,  and  the  more 
closely  a  soul  is  united  to  God  the  more  does  it  abound 
in  love His  nature  is  to  have  mercy,  and  to  for- 
give. So,  then,  thou  must  needs  be  merciful,  since  thou 
art  joined  to  Him  who  sheweth  mercy;  and  thine  affec- 
tion, though  transformed,  is  no  whit  diminished.  Thou 
hast  laid  aside  thine  infirmities,  but  not  thy  love,  for 
'  love  abideth  ;'  and  throughout  eternity  thou  wilt  not 
forget  me.  He  hath  given,  He  hath  taken  away,  and 
while  we  deplore  the  loss  of  Gerard,  let  us  not  forget  that 
he  was  given.  God  grant,  Gerard,  I  may  not  have  lost 
thee,  but  that  thou  hast  preceded  me,  and  I  may  be  with 
thee  where  thou  art.      For  of  a  surety  thou  hast  rejoined 


156  ST  BERNARD 

those  whom  in  thy  lust  night  below  thott  didst  invite  to 
praise  God,  when  suddenly,  to  the  great  surprise  of  all, 
thou,  with  a  serene  countenance  and  a  cheerful  voice,  didst 
commence  chanting,  ' Praise  ye  the  Lord  from  the  heavens; 
praise  Him,  all  ye  angels.'  At  that  moment,  O  my 
brother,  the  day  dawned  on  thee,  though  it  was  night  to 

us  ;  the  night  to  thee  was  all  brightness Just  as 

I  reached  his  side,  I  heard  him  utter  aloud  those  words 
of  Christ,  '  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit.' 
Then,  repeating  the  verse  over  again,  and  resting  on  the 
word  '  Father,'  '  Father,'  he  turned  to  me,  and,  smiling, 
said,  i  Oh,  how  gracious  of  God  to  be  the  Father  of  men, 
and  what  an  honour  for  men  to  be  His  children,'  and 
then,  very  distinctly,  '  If  children,  then  heirs.'  And  so 
he  died,  and  so  dying  he  well-nigh  changed  my  grief 
into  rejoicing,  so  completely  did  the  sight  of  his  happiness 
overpower  the  recollection  of  my  own  misery.  .  .  .  O 
Lord,  Thou  hast  but  called  for  Thine  own.  Thou  hast 
but  taken  what  belonged  to  Thee.  And  now  my  tears 
put  an  end  to  my  words.  I  pray  Thee,,  teach  me  to  put 
an  end  to  my  tears." 

Is  it  not  delightful  to  see  how  the  believing  heart  soars 
above  doubt  and  purgatory,  straight  to  the  feet  of  the 
risen  Saviour,  and  there  sees  the  beloved  in  the  presence 
of  Love,  blessed  for  evermore.* 

At  length  the  excesses  of  those  early  austerities,  which 
he  deeply  regretted,  and  the  wear  and  tear  of  sixty  years 

*  Bernard's  Abbey  was  a  reformatory  as  well  as  a  home.  He  once 
rescued  a  criminal  on  his  way  to  execution  by  his  intercessions,  threw  his 
own  cowl  over  him,  and  brought  him  back  to  the  discipline  of  Clairvaux, 
where,  thirty  years  afterwards,  the  condemned  felon  is  said  to  have  died 
a  true  penitent. 


THE  PEACEMAKER.  157 

on  an  enfeebled  frame,  began  to  tell,  and  it  became  evi- 
dent that  the  voice,  never  silent  when  there  were  any 
oppressed  to  plead  for  or  any  afflicted  to  comfort,  always 
ready  with  faithful  counsel,  or  solemn  rebuke,  or  tender 
consolation,  was  to  be  silenced;  the  loving  soul  would 
never  cease  its  melodies,  but  its  sphere  was  soon  to  be 
changed.  One  labour  of  love,  however,  remained  for  him 
to  do. 

He  was  reduced  to  extreme  weakness,  and  confined  to 
his  bed,  awaiting  his  release  from  sin  and  pain,  when  he 
was  entreated  to  mediate  in  a  fierce  feud  between  the 
burghers  of  Metz  and  the  neighbouring  barons,  who,  in 
their  mutual  animosity,  were  ruining  each  other,  and 
devastating  all  the  country  around.  Such  a  call,  at  any 
sacrifice,  Bernard  could  not  refuse.  Perhaps  he  thought 
of  his  mother,  with  her  failing  strength,  preparing  that 
feast  for  the  festival  of  St  Ambrose.  Perhaps  he  thought 
of  his  Lord  sitting  weary  on  the  well,  yet  finding  it  his 
meat  and  drink  to  fulfil  the  will  of  His  Father  in  bring- 
ing back  one  lost  sheep  to  the  fold. 

Suffering  and  feeble  as  he  was,  he  caused  himself  to  be 
removed  to  the  scene  of  contest  on  the  banks  of  the  Mo- 
selle. The  barons  had  at  that  time  the  advantage,  and 
contemptuously  rejected  his  mediation,  declaring  that  they 
would  give  battle  on  the  morrow.  The  night  only  inter- 
vened, doubtless  spent  by  Bernard,  like  so  many  by  his 
Master,  in  prayer  to  God.  In  the  morning  his  friends 
wrere  lamenting  the  failure  of  his  efforts  : — 

"  Fear  not,"  he  said,  "  I  know,  from  a  dream  I  have 
had  to-night,  they  will  yet  yield.  I  was  saying  the  mass, 
when  I  remembered  with  shame  that  I  had  forgotten  the 


158  ST  BERNARD. 

angels'  song,  (  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,'  and  on  this  I 
commenced  and  sang  it  through  with  you  all." 

That  very  afternoon  a  message  did,  indeed,  arrive  from 
the  nobles,  announcing  that  they  had  changed  their  deter- 
mination. In  the  quiet  of  the  night  his  words  of  peace 
had  pierced  their  hearts,  and  they  were  ready  to  listen  to 
terms.  Bernard  turned  joyfully  to  his  friends,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  Behold,  here  is  the  introduction  to  the  song, 
which  we  shall  so  soon  have  to  sing,  *  Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  towards  men.'  " 

After  a  few  days  of  negotiation,  in  consequence  of  Ber- 
nard's earnest  intercessions  and  patient  mediation,  a  recon- 
ciliation was  effected,  peace  was  restored,  and  the  peace- 
maker returned  to  Clairvaux  to  die. 

His  pains  grew  more  intense,  his  prostration  of  strength 
more  complete,  and  even  the  respite  of  a  few  moments' 
sleep  was  withheld  from  him.  After  alluding  to  his  suf- 
ferings in  a  letter  of  thanks  to  a  friend  who  had  sent  him 
some  fruit,  he  breaks  off  abruptly,  adding,  "  I  speak  as  a 
fool;  the  spirit  is  willing,  though  the  flesh  is  weak." 

His  last  strength  was  spent  in  supplicating  his  monk?, 
in  the  words  of  St  Paul,  "to  abound  more  and  more  in 
every  good  work;"  and  as  their  grief  could  no  longer  be 
restrained,  and  they  stood  sobbing  around  his  bed,  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  he  murmured,  "  I  am  in  a  strait 
betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ, 
which  is  far  better,  nevertheless  the  love  of  my  children 
urgeth  me  to  remain  here  below." 

These  were  his  last  words.  Then,  fixing  his  "  dove-like 
eyes  on  heaven,"  his  spirit  passed  away  from  earth,  to  be, 
where  Gerard  and  his  mother  were,  "  for  ever  with  the 


"  SALVE  CAPUT  CHUENTATUM."  159 

Lord."  He  died,  at  the  age  of  sixty -two,  in  the  year 
1153. 

His  inner  life  may  be  further  traced  in  the  three  trans- 
lations of  his  hymns  which  close  this  chapter.  This 
sketch  of  his  history  has  been  given  more  in  detail,  be- 
cause the  biographies  of  the  other  mediaeval  hymn  writers 
contain  little  more  than  the  date  of  their  existence,  and 
the  names  of  their  monasteries  and  of  their  writings,  and 
because  his  life  was  so  illustrative  of  the  Christian  life  ot 
his  times,  and  so  bound  up  with  its  history.  Many  waifs 
and  strays  of  mediaeval  hymn  literature  have  been  incor- 
rectly assigned  to  him  as  a  kind  of  lord  of  the  manor,  but 
those  here  translated  seem  admitted,  after  strict  investi- 
gation, to  be  his. 

The  first  is  a  selection  from  a  series  of  hymns,  inspired 
by  a  contemplation  of  the  wounds  of  the  Saviour  on  the 
Cross.  It  has  suggested  one  of  Paul  Gerhard's  most 
beautiful  hymns,  though  Gerhard's  hymn  is  too  original 
and  free  to  be  called  a  translation.  The  hymn  found  in 
our  Moravian  and  Wesleyan  hymn-books,  beginning  "  O 
head,  so  full  of  bruises,"  is  a  translation  of  Gerhard's,  and 
so  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  verses  of  St  Bernard,  of 
which  the  following  lines  are  intended  to  be  a  translation. 

HYMN  TO  CHRIST  ON  THE  CROSS. 

(Salve  Caput  cruentatum.) 

Hail,  thou  Head !  so  bruised  and  wounded, 
With  the  crown  of  thorns  surrounded, 
Smitten  with  the  mocking  reed, 
Wounds  which  may  not  cease  to  bleed 
Trickling  faint  and  slow. 


LOG  51   BFRXAKD. 


Hail !  from  whose  most  blessed  brow 
Xone  can  wipe  the  blood-drops  now  ; 
All  the  flower  of  life  has  tied, 
Mortal  paleness  there  instead  ; 
Thou,  before  whose  presence  dread 
Angels  trembling  bow. 

All  Thy  vigour  and  Thy  life 
Fading  in  this  bitter  strife  : 
Death  his  stamp  on  Thee  has  set 
Hollow  and  emaciate, 

Faint  and  dro  >piog  there. 
Thou  this  agony  and  scorn 
Hast  for  me,  a  sinner,  borne, 
Me,  unworthy,  all  for  me  ! 
With  those  signs  of  love  on  Thee, 

Glorious  Face,  appear! 

Yet,  in  this  Thine  agony, 
Faithful  Shepherd,  think  of  me; 
From  whose  lips  of  love  divine 
Sweetest  draughts  of  life  are  mine, 

Purest  honey  flows. 
All  unworthy  of  Thy  thought, 
Guilty,  yet  reject  me  not. 
Unto  me  Thy  head  incline, 
Let  that  dying  head  of  Thine 

In  mine  arms  repose  I 

Let  me  true  communion  know 
With  Thee  in  Thy  sacred  woe, 
Counting  all  beside  but  dross, 
Dying  with  Thee  on  Thy  Cross  ; — 
'X eath  it  will  I  die  ! 


"»C1 

Tha.  catb, 

."■ 

Grant  Thy  guilty  one  this  pr*; 

When  my  dying  hour  is  near, 

Gracious  God,  be  nigh  ! 

When  my  dying  hour  must  be, 
Be  not  al        1 1         from  me  ; 
In  that  dreadful  hour,  I  pray, 
Jesus  come  without  delay. 
me  free  ! 
en  Th*>u  bi  depart, 

Whom  I  cleave  to  with  my  heart, 
L  ^ver  of  my  soul  be  near. 
With  thy  saving 

Shew  Thyself  to  m 

It  n  interesting  to  think  that  this  prayer  for  bis 
hours  was  written  by  one  who  had  -rnt  when 

fca  Lad  sunk  back  and  died  with  so  similar  a  petition 

lm  whicL 
ur  had  shed  on  the 
I 

.ion  of  the  same  hymn  de- 
mplation  of  the  pierced  feet  of  the 
Saviour. 

SALVE  MUNDI  SALUTARY 

All  the  world's  salvation,  hail! 

viour,  hail,  oh  .. 
I  would  be  conformed  now 

how. 
Gnu  b  to  me  ! 

An  ,  if  pi      _ ..%  oh,  receive  me  ! 
Ever  present  I  believe  Thee, 


162  ST  BERNARD. 

Pure  and  spotless,  I  adore  Thee, 
See  me,  prostrate,  here  before  Thee, 
Be  Thy  pardon  free. 

Wounded  feet,  with  nails  pierced  through, 
Fix'd  till  death  those  bonds  undo, 
Tenderly  I  thus  embrace, 
Gazing,  trembling,  on  Thy  face, 

On  Thy  love  so  endless. 
Wounded,  we  Thy  healing  prove, 
Thank  Thee  for  Thy  matchless  love  ; 
Friend  of  sinners,  suffering  there, 
Thou  our  ruin  canst  repair, 

Father  of  the  friendless  ! 

What  in  me  is  maim'd  and  shatter'd, 
Misapplied,  or  vainly  scatter'd, 
Oh,  sweet  Jesus  !  heal  again  ; 
Make  my  heart's  rough  places  plain, 

By  Thy  healing  rood. 
Thee  upon  Thy  cross  I  seek, 
Helpless  is  my  soul,  and  weak ; 
Thou  wilt  cure  as  I  have  craved, 
Heal  me,  and  I  shall  be  saved, 

Wash  me  in  Thy  blood. 

Fix,  oh,  fix,  each  crimson  wound, 
And  those  nail-prints  so  profound, 
In  my  heart  engrave  them  fully, 
That  I  may  grow  like  Thee  wholly, 

Jesus,  Saviour  sweet ! 
Pitying  God,  to  Thee  I  cry  : 
Guilty  at  Thy  feet  I  lie, 
Oh,  be  merciful  to  me, 
Nor  bid  me,  unworthy,  flee 

From  Thy  sacred  feet ! 


JESU  DULCIS  MEMOIUA.  1G3 

Prostrate,  see,  Thy  Cross  I  grasp, 
And  Thy  pierced  feet  I  clasp  ; 
Gracious  Jesus,  spurn  me  not; 
On  me,  with  compassion  fraught, 

Let  Thy  glances  fall. 
r  From  Thy  Cross  of  agony, 

My  Beloved,  look  on  me ; 
Turn  me  wholly  unto  Thee ; 
"  Be  thou  whole,"  say  openly, 

"  I  forgive  thee  all." 

The  other  hymn  has  been  translated  by  Count  Zinzen- 
dorf,  or  rather,  poured  from  St  Bernard's  heart  into  his, 
and  then  given  out,  in  German,  fresh  as  from  a  fresh 
source.  The  original  hymn,  from  which  the  following 
verses  are  translated,  is  very  long : — 


JESU  DULCIS  MEMORIA. 

0  Jesus !  Thy  sweet  memory 
Can  fill  the  heart  with  ecstasy ; 
But  passing  all  things  sweet  that  be, 
Thine  actual  presence,  Lord! 

Never  was  sung  a  sweeter  word, 
Nor  fuller  music  e'er  was  heard, 
Nor  deeper  aught  the  heart  hath  stirr'd, 
Than  Jesus,  Son  of  God ! 

What  hope,  0  Jesus.  Thou  canst  render 
To  tho*e  who  other  hopes  surrender — 
To  those  who  seek  Thee,  oh,  how  tender, 
But  what  to  those  who  find ! 


164  ST  BEKNAKD. 

Jesus,  the  fragrance  of  the  heart, 
The  only  Fount  of  Truth  Thou  art, 
Who  dost  true  life  and  joy  impart, 
Surpassing  all  desire. 

No  tongue  suffices  to  confess, 
No  letters  can  enough  express, 
The  heart  that  proves  believes  the  bliss, 
What  it  is  Christ  to  love  ! 

With  Mary,  ere  the  morning  break, 
Him  at  the  sepulchre  I  seek, 
Would  hear  Him  to  my  spirit  speak, 
And  see  Him  with  my  heart. 

0  Jesus,  King  unspeakable ! 
Victor,  whose  triumphs  none  can  tell— 
Whose  goodness  is  ineffable — 
Alone  to  be  desired  : 

When  Thou  dost  in  our  hearts  appear, 
Truth  shines  with  glorious  light,  and  clear ; 
The  world's  joys  seem  the  dross  they  are, 
And  love  burns  bright  within. 

Thy  love  was  proved  upon  the  Cross, 
The  shedding  of  Thy  blood  for  us — 
Our  free  redemption  granting  thus, 
And  the  blest  sight  of  God. 

Who  taste  Thy  love,  true  food  obtain  ; 
Who  drink,  for  ever  thirst  again  ; 
All  other  joys  seem  poor  and  vain 
Beside  this  passing  love. 


JESU  DULCIS  MEMORIA.  165 

Jesus,  the  .strength  of  angels  strong, 
Thy  name  excels  the  sweetest  song, 
Dropping  like  honey  from  the  tongue — 
Like  nectar  in  the  heart. 

Wherever  I  may  chance  to  be, 
Thee  first  my  heart  desires  to  see; 
How  glad  when  I  discover  Thee, 
How  blest  when  I  retain ! 


Beyond  all  treasures  is  Thy  grace. 
Oh,  when  wilt  Thou  Thy  steps  retrace, 
And  satisfy  me  with  Thy  face, 
And  make  me  wholly  glad  ? 

Then  come,  oh  come,  Thou  perfect  King, 
Of  boundless  glory,  boundless  spring  ; 
Arise,  and  fullest  daylight  bring, 
Jesus  expected  long  ! 

Fountain  of  mercy  and  of  love, 
Sun  of  the  Fatherland  above, 
The  cloud  of  sadness  far  remove, 
The  light  of  glory  give  ! 

From  God  s  right  hand,  Thy  rightful  throne, 
Return,  Beloved,  to  Thine  own  ; 
Thy  victory  has  long  been  won, 

Oh,  claim  Thy  conquest  now  ! 

The  heavenly  choirs  Thy  name,  Lord,  greet. 
And  evermore  Thy  praise  repeat  ; 
Thou  lillest  heaven  with  joy  complete, 
Making  our  peace  with  God. 


/& 


166  ST  BERNARD. 

Jesus  has  gone  to  heaven  again, 
High  on  the  Father's  throne  to  reign ; 
My  heart  no  more  can  here  remain, 
But  after  Him  has  gone. 

We  follow  Thee  with  praises  there, 
With  hymn,  and  vow,  and  suppliant  prayer ; 
In  Thy  celestial  home  to  share, 
Grant  us,  0  Lord,  with  Thee. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 

The  biographies  of  the  other  mediaeval  hymn- writers, 
whose  hymns  are  translated  in  these  pages,  are  so  little 
known,  that  we  must  look  on  their  modes  of  living  and 
thinking  through  those  of  St  Bernard. 

With  one  exception,  all  were  monks,  and  the  mono- 
tonous routine  of  monastic  life  seems  in  their  histories  to 
have  replaced  the  endless  varieties  of  discipline  by  which 
our  heavenly  Father  trains  His  children.  Doubtless, 
could  we  penetrate  beneath  the  cowl  and  within  the  con- 
vent walls,  which  time  has  now  so  firmly  sealed,  we  should 
see  that  even  there,  uniform  as  the  outward  life  was,  the 
varieties  of  inward  training  were  as  many  as  the  indi- 
vidual souls  there  trained.  Doubtless,  whilst  these  monks 
rigidly  subjected  themselves  to  one  arbitrary  rule  of  living, 
and  praying,  and  abstaining,  beneath  this  rule,  and  cross- 
ing it,  God's  hand  was  at  work,  with  his  own  separate  dis- 
cipline for  each  character,  testing  by  sickness,  proving  by 
disappointment,  sustaining  by  especial  promises,  stirring 
each  heart  by  special  blessings.  But  all  this  is  hidden  from 
us;  and  learned  men  seem  only  to  know  that  Adam  of  St 
Victor,  the  author  of  thirty-six  of  the  most   celebrated 


168  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

mediaeval  hymns,  was  a  contemporary  of  St  Bernard,  and 
a  member  of  the  illustrious  religious  house  of  St  Victor  at 
Paris;  that  Thomas  of  Celano,  supposed  author  of  the 
"Dies  Irae,"  was  an  Italian,  who  became  a  Franciscan  friar, 
and  lived  in  the  thirteenth  century ;  that  Thomas  a 
Kempis  was  a  Dutchman,  born  at  Overyssel  in  1380,  of  the 
Order  of  the  Fratres  Communis  Yitae ;  and  that  whatever 
else  is  known  of  their  minds  and  hearts,  is  only  as  revealed 
in  their  writings. 

The  one  exception  to  the  monastic  character  of  medi- 
aeval hymn-writers  is  King  Robert  the  Second  of  France, 
author  of  the  touching  hymn,  in  which  all  his  gentle 
nature  seems  to  speak,  "  Veni  Sancte  Spiritus;"  and  King 
Robert  had  certainly  more  of  the  monk  than  of  the  king 
about  him.  He  seems  to  have  been,  if  ever  any  man 
was,  made  for  the  cloister,  and  being  forced  into  the  pub- 
licity of  the  throne,  he  threw  as  much  as  possible  of  the 
colouring  of  the  convent  over  his  home  and  his  court. 
Necessity  drove  him  to  the  cares  and  the  state  of  royalty ; 
but  his  joys  were  in  church  music,  which  he  composed,  in 
devotion,  and  in  alms-giving.  His  mind  was  his  hermi- 
tage, and  in  its  cloistral  quiet  he  dwelt  apart,  enclosed  by 
sacred  spells  of  melody  and  song.  King  Robert  is  hardly 
an  exception  to  the  fact  that  the  hymn-writers  of  the 
middle  ages  were  all  devoted* to  the  monastic  life.  The 
son  of  Hugh  Capet,  he  ascended  the  throne  of  France 
a.d.  987,  and  died  a.d.  1031.  His  hymn,  "  Yeni  Sancte 
Spiritus,"  was  therefore  probably  composed  about  the 
commencement  of  the  eleventh  century,  when  the  accents 
of  the  sacred  song  were  taken  up  by  Peter  Damiani, 
Cardinal    Bishop  of  Ostia,  said  to  have  been  a  zealous 


ADAM  OF  ST  VICTOR.  1G9 

reprover  of  the  popular  vices  and  clerical  ambition  of  his 
time.  He  died  a.d.  1071.  His  most  beautiful  hymn  is 
the  one  on  the  Joys  of  Paradise,  frequently  attributed  to 
St  Augustine. 

Twenty  years  later  (about  A.D.  1091)  St  Bernard  was 
born,  and  he  with  his  contemporaries,  Adam  of  St  Victor, 
Hildebert,  Peter  the  Venerable,  and  Bernard  of  Clugny, 
filled  the  Church  with  hymns  of  praise  all  through  the 
twelfth  century.  That  century,  the  great  era  of  the  Cru- 
sades, was  the  harvest-field  of  mediaeval  hymns.  Those 
belonging  to  an  earlier  or  a  later  period  are  comparatively 
mere  first-fruits  or  after-gleanings.  Then  it  was  that  the 
great  theological  school  of  St  Victor  tried  to  reconcile 
the  dialectic  and  the  mystic  theology,  and  its  poet  was 
Adam  of  St  Victor,  with  his  elaborate  system  of  Scrip- 
tural types  occasionally  chilling  the  genuine  fire  of  his 
verse  into  a  catalogue  of  images.  Then  Peter  the  Vene- 
rable ruled  the  Abbey  of  Clugny  with  his  gentle  sceptre  ; 
caused  the  Koran  to  be  translated,  that  Mohammedanism 
might  be  understood  and  refuted,  and  the  Moslem  converted 
rather  than  slain  ;  received  the  excommunicated  Abelard 
to  his  monastery,  watched  over  him,  and  finally  accom- 
plished a  reconciliation  between  him  and  St  Bernard. 
The  beatitude  of  the  peace-maker  seems  to  have  rested 
on  this  venerable  man,  and  the  translation  of  his  hymn, 
"  Mortis  portis  fractis,  fortis,"  may  give  some  idea  of  his 
joyful  faith  in  the  Resurrection. 

After  this  chorus  there  is  a  brief  silence,  the  echoes  of 
that  burst  of  song  sounding  on  through  the  ages,  until 
they  blend  with  the  rising  tones  of  a  new  psalm,  and 
are    lost  in  the    solemn    and    magnificent   chant   of  the 


1  70  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

great  mediaeval  hymn,  the  "  Dies  Irse."  That  hymn  rose 
alone  in  a  comparative  pause,  as  if  Christendom  had  been 
hushed  to  listen  to  its  deep  music,  ranging  as  it  does 
through  so  many  tones  of  human  feeling,  from  trembling 
awe,  and  the  low  murmurs  of  confession,  to  tender 
pathetic  pleading  with  One  who,  though  the  "  just 
avenging  Judge,"  yet  "  sate  weary"  on  the  well  of  Sa- 
maria, seeking  the  lost,  trod  the  mournful  way,  and  died 
the  bitterest  death  for  sinful  men.  Its  supposed  author, 
Thomas  of  Celano,  in  the  Abruzzo,  lived  during  the 
fourteenth  century,  was  a  Franciscan  monk,  and  a 
personal  friend  of  St  Francis  himself,  whose  life  he  wrote. 
But  so  much  doubt  has  hung  about  the  authorship,  and 
if  Thomas  of  Celano  was  the  author,  so  little  is  known  of 
him — even  the  date  of  his  birth  and  death  not  being 
ascertained — that  we  may  best  think  of  the  "  Dies  Irse  " 
as  a  solemn  strain  sung  by  an  invisible  singer. 

There  is  a  hush  in  the  great  choral  service  of  the 
universal  Church,  when  suddenly,  we  scarcely  know 
whence,  a  single  voice,  low  and  trembling,  breaks  the 
silence  ;  so  low  and  grave  that  it  seems  to  deepen  the 
stillness,  yet  so  clear  and  deep  that  its  softest  tones  and 
words  are  heard  throughout  Christendom,  and  vibrate 
through  every  heart — grand  and  echoing  as  an  organ,  yet 
homely  and  human  as  if  the  words  were  spoken  rather 
than  suns'  And  through  the  listening;  multitudes 
solemnly  that  melody  flows  on,  sung  not  to  the  multi- 
tudes, but  "to  the  Lord,"  and  therefore  carrying  with  it 
the  hearts  of  men,  till  the  singer  is  no  more  solitary,  but 
the  selfsame  tearful,  solemn  strain  pours  from  the  lips  of 


"DIES  HUE."  171 

the  whole  Church  as  if  from  one  voice,  and  yet  each  one 
sings  it  as  if  alone  to  God. 

For  true  and  deep  as  that  solemn  hymn  is,  it  is  the  soli- 
tary cry  of  the  prodigal  son,  awakening  to  the  sense  of  his 
sin  and  ruin  in  a  far  country,  and  saying,  "  I  will  arise," 
rather  than  the  joyful  voice  of  the  forgiven  son,  when  the 
father  has  met  him,  and  he  is  no  more  solitary,  and  the  song 
of  welcome  and  the  feast  of  the  fathers  house  have  begun. 

That  cry  of  the  returning  prodigal  shall,  indeed,  always 
merge  at  last  into  the  unutterable  gladness  of  the  new 
song  sung  by  the  great  multitude  no  man  can  number ; 
but  those  confiding  words  and  that  joyful  music  are 
often  caught  only  in  broken,  saddened  echoes  on  earth, 
marred  and  deadened  by  care,  and  sin,  and  theological 
perplexities.  The  loss  thus  sustained  is  great ;  it  must 
make  a  wide  practical  difference  whether  our  religion  is 
the  cry  of  personal  distress  and  doubt,  or  the  thanksgiving 
for  deliverance.  Danger  isolates — each  struggles  to  the 
shore  on  his  own  plank  ;  deliverance  unites.  Those  in 
peril  are  occupied  with  the  danger ;  the  rescued  think  of 
the  deliverer.  The  sense  of  ruin  brings  back  the  prodi- 
gal :  faith  in  redemption  forms  the  Church.  The  more 
joyful  we  feel  the  news  to  be,  the  more  eager  we  must  be 
to  tell  it.  Therefore  it  is  of  immense  importance  to  our 
love,  and  unity,  and  usefulness,  that  we  should  believe  in 
Christianity  as  a  gospel,  and  that  our  religion  should  be 
our  joy.  To  this  the  "Dies  Irso"  does  not  fully  reach.  But 
it  is  pleasant  to  think  how  those  trembling,  pleading 
words,  scarcely  rising  beyond  the  "  Make  me  as  one  of  thy 
hired  servants,"  must  long  since  have  been  hushed  on  the 
Father's   bosom,  and  the  unutterable  rapture  of  forgive- 


172  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

ness  have  melted  into  the  deep  song  of  thankful  joy,  where 
there  is  no  elder  brother  to  murmur  at  the  welcome  of  the 
lost  son  being  too  loving  or  too  free. 

Thomas  a  Kempis  (born  1386,  died  1471),  supposed 
author  of  the  "  Imitation  of  Christ,"  next  takes  up  the 
strain,  and  it  is  interesting,  through  those  lines  of  his 
on  "  The  Joys  of  Heaven,"  to  follow  the  patient  bearer 
of  the  cross  up  to  the  blessed  city,  "  whose  gates  (in 
the  words  of  another  mediaeval  hymn-writer,  Hildebert, 
Archbishop  of  Tours)  are  the  wood  of  the  Cross;"  not, 
indeed,  the  cross  of  the  disciple,  but  of  the  Master. 

The  latest  mediaeval  hymn-writer,  among  those  whose 
hymns  are  translated  in  these  pages,  is  John  Mauburn, 
Abbot  of  Livry,  who  was  born  at  Brussels,  and  died  A.D. 
1502.  His  name  may  close  the  list  of  mediaeval  singers, 
whose  hymns  were  emphatically  songs  in  the  night. 

Eighteen  years  after  Mauburn's  death,  Luther  pro- 
claimed the  free  forgiveness  of  sins  by  God,  and  by  Him 
alone,  through  the  one  Offering  and  the  one  Mediator. 
The  Bible  was  disinterred  from  the  dead  languages,  one 
of  the  brightest  mornings  in  history  dawned,  and  the  dark 
ages  were  over  ! 

The  following  translations  are  arranged  according  to 
their  subjects,  not  according  to  their  authors.  This  ar- 
rangement follows  the  sacred  history  of  the  Gospels  and 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  as  traced  in  the  annual  festivals 
of  the  Church,  embracing  the  great  objects  of  Christian 
faith,  and  concluding  with  hymns  on  the  joys  of  heaven, 
and  on  more  miscellaneous  subjects. 

The  first  two  are  on  the  Nativity.  Both  are  of  late 
date,  were  incorporated,   with  and  without  translation, 


CHRISTMAS  HYMN.  173 

into  the  Protestant  German  hymn-books,  and  sung  in  the 
Lutheran  churches  after  the  Reformation ;  the  old  medi- 
aeval song  thus  melting  into  that  of  the  Reformed  Church. 

CHRISTMAS  HYMN. 

{Puer  natus  in  Bethlehem.) 

The  Child  is  born  in  Bethlehem, 
Sing  and  be  glad,  Jerusalem  ! 

Low  on  the  manger  lieth  He, 

Whose  reign  no  bound  or  end  can  see. 

The  ox  and  ass  their  Owner  know, 
And  own  their  Lord,  thus  stooping  low. 

The  kings  bring  from  the  furthest  East, 
Gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh  to  Christ. 

That  lowly  dwelling  entering, 

Reverent  they  greet  the  new-born  King. 

Born  of  a  virgin  mother  mild, 

Seed  of  the  woman,  wondrous  Child  ! 

Born  of  our  blood,  without  the  sin 
The  serpent's  venom  left  therein. 

Like  us,  in  flesh  of  human  frame, 
Unlike  in  sin  alone  He  came  ; 

That  He  might  make  us,  sinful  men, 
Like  God,  and  like  Himself  again. 

In  this,  our  Christmas  happiness, 

The  Lord  with  festive  hymns  we  bless  : 

The  Holy  Trinity  be  praised, 

To  God  our  ceaseless  thanks  be  raised  ! 


174  MEDEEVAL  HYMNS. 

HYMN  ON  THE  NATIVITY. 
JOHN  MAUBURN— BRUSSELS,  1460-1502. 

(Hen  quid  j aces  stabulo.) 

Dost  Thou  in  a  manger  lie, 

Who  hast  all  created, 
Stretching  infant  hands  on  high, 

Saviour  long  awaited ! 
If  a  monarch,  where  Thy  state  ? 
Where  Thy  court  on  Thee  to  wait  ? 

Eoyal  purple  where  ? 
Here  no  regal  pomp  we  see, 
Nought  but  need  and  penury  ; 

Why  thus  cradled  here  ? 

Pitying  love  for  fallen  man 

Brought  me  down  thus  low, 
For  a  race  deep  lost  in  sin, 

Bushing  into  woe. 
By  this  lowly  birth  of  mine, 
Countless  riches  shall  be  thine, 

Matchless  gifts,  and  free  ; 
Willingly  this  yoke  I  take, 
And  this  sacrifice  I  make, 

Heaping  joys  for  thee. 

Fervent  praise  would  I  to  Thee 

Evermore  be  raising ; 
For  Thy  wondrous  love  to  me, 

Praising,  praising,  praising. 
Glory,  glory,  be  for  ever 
Unto  that  most  bounteous  Giver, 

And  that  loving  Lord  ! 
Better  witness  to  Thy  worth, 
Purer  praise  than  ours  on  earth, 

Angels'  songs  afford. 


HYMN  ON  THE  PASSION.  175 

MEDITATIONS  ON   THE    SUFFERINGS   OF  OUR  LORD.* 
AN S ELM   OF   LUCCA— DIED   1086. 

(Desere  jam,  anima,  lectulum  soporis.) 

Rise,  my  soul,  from  slumber  now,  leave  the  bed  of  sleep ; 
Languor,  torpor,  vanity,  all  outside  must  keep  ; 
While  the  heart,  lit  up  within,  with  love's  torches  glows, 
Dwelling  on  that  wondrous  work,  and  the  Saviour's  woes. 

Reason,  thought,  affections  true,  gather  all  together, 
Nor,  by  trifles  led  astray,  hither  roam  and  thither  ; 
Fancies  wild,  distracting  doubts,  busy  cares  depart, 
While  the  sacraments  of  life  pass  before  the  heart. 

Jesu,  Sovereign  Lord  of  heaven,  sweetest  Friend  to  me, 
King  of  all  the  universe,  all  was  made  by  Thee  ; 
Who  can  know  or  comprehend  the  wonders  thou  hast  wrought, 
Since  the  saving  of  the  lost  Thee  so  low  has  brought  ? 

Thee  the  love  of  souls  drew  down  from  beyond  the  sky, 
Drew  Thee  from  Thy  glorious  home,  Thy  palace  bright  and 

high! 
To  this  narrow  vale  of  tears  Thou  Thy  footsteps  bendest, 
Hard  the  work  Thou  tak'st  on  Thee,  rough  the  way  Thou 

wendest. 

The  Joy  of  all  is  plunged  in  grief,  the  Light  of  all  is  waning, 

The  Bread  of  life  needs  nourishing,  the  Strength  of  all  sus- 
taining ; 

The  Fount  at  which  all  heaven  is  filled,  the  Fount  of  life  is 
thirsting — 

What  heart  such  wonders  can  behold,  and  not  be  nigh  to 
bursting  ] 

*  Translated  from  an  extract  given  in  Trench's  "Sacred  Latin  Poetry," 
from  a  long  poem  on  the  subject. 


176  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

Oh  !  faithful  Saviour,  wonderful  Thy  gracious  condescension, 
The  depths  of  Thy  most  tender  love  exceed  all  comprehension  ; 
Spotless   art   Thou,   no   sin   in  Thee,   that   now  Thou   thus 

shouldst  languish, 
I  am  the  cause — 0  Jesus,  I ! — of  this  Thy  bitter  anguish. 

I  exalt  myself  in  pride — Thou  art  humbled  low  ; 

Mine  the  sins — the  penalty,  my  Saviour,  bearest  Thou ! 

I  seek  soft  and  easy  paths — Thine  was  hardness  all: 

Whilst  my  cup  is  fuTd  with  sweets,  Thine  was  mix'd  with  gall! 

The  two  following  hymns  on  the  Cross  and  Passion 
have  been  chosen  because  they  dwell  less  on  the  details 
of  bodily  anguish  than  on  the  love  which  endured  them, 
and  the  blessings  they  won  for  us — because  the  Cross  is  so 
simply  held  forth  in  them  as  the  manifestation  of  the  love 
of  God,  and  the  means  of  the  redemption  of  man. 

Of  the  first,  a  Dutch  translation  (existing  in  the 
fifteenth  century)  is  given  by  Mone.  The  original  Latin 
may  therefore  have  been  of  earlier  date.  These  verses 
are  interesting,  as  having  formed  an  aid  to  the  daily 
devotions  of  Christians  of  that  age. 

The  second  of  these  hymns  has  been  attributed  to  St 
Bernard,  but  is  not  in  his  works,  although,  Mone  says, 
worthy  to  be  his  : — 

THE  HOURS  OF  THE  PASSION    OF   OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 


(Tu  qui  velatus  facie.) 

O  Thou  who,  though  with  veiled  face, 
Wast  still  the  Sun  of  righteousness  ; 
With  fainting  limbs  and  footsteps  slow, 
Smitten  with  many  a  scornful  blow : 


HYMNS  FOR  THE  HOUKS.  177 

With  hearts  intent  we  Thee  entreat, 
Extend  to  us  Thy  mercy  sweet ; 
And  for  Thy  loving-kindness'  sake, 
Let  us  Thy  glory  all  partake. 

Honour  and  praise  to  Christ  be  paid, 
Once  sold  and  causelessly  betray'd  ; 
Who  for  His  people  willingly 
Bore  death  upon  the  shameful  Tree. 

AT  TERCE. 

(Mora  qui  ductus  tertia.) 

Thou  who  at  the  third  hour  wast  led, 
0  Christ,  to  meet  that  torture  dread, 
Who  on  thy  shoulder  didst  for  us, 
For  us  unhappy,  bear  the  Cross, 

Make  us  so  full  of  love  to  Thee, 
And  let  our  lives  so  holy  be, 
That  we  may  win  Thy  tranquil  rest, 
And  in  the  heavenly  land  be  blest. 

AT  SEXT. 

(Crucem  pro  nobis  subiit.) 

For  us  the  bitter  Cross  He  bore, 

And,  stretch'd  thereon,  was  parch'd  with  thirsts- 
Jesus,  whose  sacred  hands  were  pierced, 

Whose  sacred  feet  with  nails  they  tore. 

Honour  and  blessing  we  will  bring 

To  Him,  the  Lord,  the  Crucified, 

Who,  by  His  sufferings  as  He  died, 
Has  ransom'd  us  from  perishing. 


178  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 


{Beata  Christi  passio.) 

Christ's  blessed  Passion  set  us  free, 
His  death  our  liberation  be, 
Since  endless  joys  are  won  by  this — 
For  us  eternal  heavenly  bliss. 

Glory  to  Christ  the  Lord  be  sung, 
Who,  as  upon  the  Cross  he  hung, 
With  that  great  cry  gave  up  the  ghost, 
Saving  a  world  undone  and  lost. 

AT  COMPLINE. 

(Qui  jacuisti  mortuus.) 

O  thou  who  layedst  dead,  the  King, 
The  spotless  King,  in  j>eace  at  last, 
Grant  us  in  peace  in  Thee  to  rest, 

And  evermore  Thy  praise  to  sing. 

Oh  succour  us,  our  Lord,  and  bless 

Whom  thou  redeemedst  with  Thy  blood; 
And  grant  us  in  Thy  blest  abode 

Sweet  joys  of  deep  eternal  peace. 

ON  THE  PASSION  OF  OUR  LORD. 

(Dulcis*  Jesu  spes  pauperum.) 

Jesus  !  Refuge  of  the  poor 
And  the  wretched  evermore ; 
Wretched  unto  Thee  I  flee, 
Thirst  with  all  my  heart  for  Thee. 

*  This  epithet  "dulcis"  is  omitted,  as  not  precisely  rendered  by  any 
corresponding  English  adjective.  Three  verses  have  been  omitted  from 
this  hymn,  though  simple  and  touching,  as  not  characters  tic  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  therefore,  in  a  translation,  tending  to  weaken  the  whole. 


HYMN  ON  THE  PASSION.  179 

God !  whom  more  than  all  I  prize, 
Unto  Thee  my  groans  arise  ; 
Thee  my  weeping  voice  implores, 
Thee  my  lowly  heart  adores. 

Jesus!  nothing  is  more  sweet, 
Nothing  more  with  joy  replete, 
Than  to  ponder  o'er  and  o'er 
All  Thy  sufferings  long  and  sore  ; 
The  memory  of  Thy  death  transcending 
Sweetest  ointments  richly  blending, 
Balsams,  spices,  rarest  scents, 
Myrrh,  and  nard,  and  frankincense. 

Jesus !  Lord,  what  hast  Thou  done  1 
Thou  no  cross  by  sin  hast  won  ! 
We  deserve  what  Thou  sustainest, 
We  have  earn'd  the  cup  Thou  drainest. 
We  of  Adam's  race  forlorn, 
Thou  of  a  pure  Virgin  born  ; 
From  our  birth  our  sin  doth  flow, 
From  Thy  birth  most  pure  art  Thou. 

Jesus !  what  Thou  sufferest  there 
For  the  wretched  Thou  dost  bear, 
Whom,  in  the  fell  tyrant's  chains, 
Thou  didst  see  'neath  direst  pains. 
No  necessity  on  Thee 
Laid  these  pains,  but  mercy  free  ; 
Grace  made  Thee  endure  the  cross, 
Drink  the  cup  of  death  for  us. 

Jesus !  look  upon  me  here, 
Nor  despise  a  sinner's  prayer ; 


180  MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 

Thou  all  given  up  to  woe, 

By  Thy  hands  with  nails  pierced  through, 

By  Thy  side  with  scourges  torn, 

By  Thy  head  thus  crown'd  with  thorn, 

Spit  on,  mock'd  with  many  a  stroke, 

By  Thy  neck  bent  'neath  the  yoke. 

Jesus  !  Teacher  who  canst  bless! 
The  holy  stream,  the  dew  of  grace, 
Flowing  from  Thy  wounded  side — 
Flowing  in  a  crimson  tide  ! 
Our  remission's  ransom  price, 
Our  salvation's  sacrifice, 
From  Thy  pierced  hands  it  flow'd, 
From  Thy  feet,  nail'd  to  the  rood. 


Jesus  !  once  a  victim  made, 
Sold,  and  to  Thy  foes  betray'd ; 
By  their  rage,  with  envy  mix'd, 
To  the  torturing  cross  affix'd, 
Wounded  by  the  spear  at  last, 
'Neath  the  stone  imprison'd  fast ; 
Victor  now  beyond  the  sky, 
Haste  to  save  us,  oh  be  nigh ! 

Jesus  !  merciful  Thou  art, 
Light  the  sunbeam  in  my  heart, 
Thou  who,  cleansing  in  Thy  blood, 
Hast  redeem'd  me  unto  God ! 
To  Father,  Son,  be  honour  meet, 
And  to  the  Holy  Paraclete — 
All  honour  to  the  Trinity, 
Through  ages  that  no  close  shall  see. 


ON  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  OUR  LORD.  181 

ON  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  OUR  LORD, 
PETER  THE  VENERABLE,  ABBOT  OF  CLUGNY — 1092-1156, 

{Mortis  portis  fractis,  fortis.) 

Lo,  the  gates  of  death  are  broken, 

And  the  strong  man  arm'd  is  spoil'd, 
Of  his  armour,  which  he  trusted, 
By  the  Stronger  Arm  despoil'd. 
Yanquish'd  is  the  prince  of  hell, 
Smitten  by  the  Cross  he  fell. 

Then  the  purest  light  resplendent 

Shone  those  seats  of  darkness  through, 

When,  to  save  whom  he  created, 
God  will'd  to  create  anew. 

That  the  sinner  might  not  perish, 

For  him  the  Creator  dies, 
By  Whose  death  our  dark  lot  changing, 

Life  again  for  us  doth  rise. 

Satan  groan'd,  defeated  then, 

When  the  Victor  ransom'd  men  ; 
Fatal  was  to  him  the  strife, 
Unto  man  the  source  of  life  ; 
Captured  as  he  seized  his  prey, 
He  is  slain  as  he  would  slay. 

Thus  the  King  all  hell  hath  vanquished 

Gloriously  and  mightily ; 
On  the  first  day  leaving  Hades, 

Victor  He  returns  on  high. 

Thus  God  brought  man  back  to  heaven, 
When  He  rose  from  out  the  grave, 


182  MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 

The  pure  primal  life  bestowing, 
Which  creating  first  he  gave. 

By  the  sufferings  of  his  Maker, 

To  his  perfect  Paradise 
The  first  dweller  thus  returneth ; 

Wherefore  these  glad  songs  arise. 

ADAM  OP  ST  VICTOR — TWELFTH  CENTURY. 

(Pone  luctum  Magdalena.) 

Lay  aside  thy  mourning,  Mary, 

Weep  no  longer,  Magdalen ! 
This  is  not  the  feast  of  Simon,* 

Tears  became  thy  true  heart  then. 
Thousand  causes  here  of  gladness, 
Thousand !  and  not  one  of  sadness. 
Let  thine  Alleluia  rise ! 

Clothe  thyself  in  gladness,  Mary, 
Let  thy  brow  shine  calm  and  clear ; 

All  the  pain  and  grief  has  vanish'd, 
And  the  glorious  Light  is  here. 

Christ  hath  burst  the  world's  dark  prison, 

Over  death  triumphant  risen. 
Let  thine  Alleluia  rise ! 

Lift  thy  voice  rejoicing,  Mary, 
Christ  hath  risen  from  the  tomb  ; 

Sad  the  scene  He  pass'd  through  lately, 
Now  a  Victor  He  is  come. 

Whom  thy  tears  in  death  were  mourning, 

Welcome  with  thy  smiles  returning, 
Let  thine  Alleluia  rise  ! 

*  Alluding  to  the    belief  prevalent  in    the  middle  ages,  that   the 
"  woman  who  was  a  sinner"  (Luke  vii.)  was  the  Magdalene. 


SPRING   AND  THE   RESURRECTION.  183 

Raise  thy  heavy  eyelids,  Mary, 

See  Him  living  evermore  ; 
See  His  countenance  how  gracious, 

See  the  wounds  for  thee  He  bore. 
All  the  gems  on  Sion  gleaming 
Pale  before  those  wounds  redeeming. 
Let  thine  Alleluia  rise  ! 

Life  is  thine  for  ever,  Mary, 

For  thy  Light  is  come  again ; 
And  the  strength  of  death  is  broken, 

Tides  of  joy  till  every  vein. 
Far  hath  fled  the  night  of  sorrow, 
Love  hath  brought  the  blessed  morrow. 
Let  thine  Alleluia  rise ! 


SPRING  AND  THE  RESURRECTION. 
ADAM  OF  ST  VICTOR. 

(Mundi  renovatio.) 

The  renewal  of  the  world 

Countless  new  joys  bringeth  forth, 
Christ  arising,  all  things  rise — 

Rise  with  Him  from  earth. 
All  the  creatures  feel  their  Lord, 
Feel  His  festal  light  outpour'd. 

Fire  springs  up  with  motion  free, 
Breezes  wake  up  soft  and  warm  ; 

Water  flows  abundantly, 
Earth  remaineth  firm. 

All  things  light  now  skyward  soar, 

Solid  things  are  rooted  more; 
All  things  are  made  new. 


184  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

Ocean  waves,  grown  tranquil,  lie 
Smiling  'neath  the  heavens  serene ; 

All  the  air  breathes  light  and  fresh, 
Our  valley  groweth  green. 

Verdure  clothes  the  arid  plain, 

Frozen  waters  gush  again, 
At  the  touch  of  Spring. 

For  the  frost  of  death  is  melted, 
The  prince  of  this  world  lieth  low, 

And  his  empire  strong  amongst  us, 
All  is  broken  now. 

Grasping  Him  in  whom  alone 

He  could  nothing  claim  or  own, 
His  domain  he  lost. 

Paradise  is  now  regain'd, 
Life  has  vanquish'd  death, 

And  the  joys  he  long  had  lost, 
Man  recovereth. 

The  cherubim,  at  God's  own  word, 

Turn  aside  the  flaming  sword  ; 

The  long-lost  blessing  is  restored, 
The  closed  way  open'd  free. 

SPRING  AND  EASTER. 

(Plaudite  cceli.) 

Smile  praises,  O  sky, 

Soft  breathe  them,  0  air, 
Below  and  on  high, 

And  everywhere  ! 
The  black  troop  of  storms 

Has  yielded  to  calm  ; 
Tufted  blossoms  are  peeping, 

And  early  palm. 


TO  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT,  185 

Arouse  thee,  0  spring ; 

Ye  flowers,  come  forth, 
With  thousand  hues  tinting 

The  soft  green  earth ; 
Ye  violets  tender, 

And  sweet  roses  bright, 
Gay  Lent-lilies  blended 

With  pure  lilies  white. 

Sweep,  tides  of  rich  music, 

The  full  veins  along  ; 
And  pour  in  full  measure, 

Sweet  lyres,  your  song. 
Sing,  sing,  for  He  liveth, 

He  lives,  as  He  said ; 
The  Lord  has  arisen 

Unharm'd  from  the  dead. 

Clap,  clap  your  hands,  mountains, 

Ye  valleys,  resound ; 
Leap,  leap  for  joy,  fountains, 

Ye  hills,  catch  the  sound. 
All  triumph  !  He  liveth, 

He  lives,  as  He  said ; 
The  Lord  hath  arisen 

Unharm'd  from  the  dead. 


TO  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 
KINO  ROBERT  SECOND  OP  FRANCE — DIED  1031. 

(  Veniy  Sancte  Spiritus^) 

Holy  Spirit,  come,  we  pray, 
Come  from  heaven  and  shed  the  ray 
Of  Thy  light  divine. 


186  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

Come,  Thou  Father  of  the  poor, 
Giver  from  a  boundless  store, 
Light  of  hearts,  0  shine  ! 

Matchless  Comforter  in  woe, 
Sweetest  Guest  the  soul  can  know, 
Living  waters  blest. 

When  we  weep,  our  solace  sweet, 
Coolest  shade  in  summer  heat, 
In  our  labour  rest. 

Holy  and  most  blessed  Light, 
Make  our  inmost  spirits  bright 
With  Thy  radiance  mild  ; 

For  without  Thy  sacred  powers, 
Nothing  can  we  own  of  ours, 
Nothing  undefiled. 

What  is  arid,  fresh  bedew, 
What  is  sordid,  cleanse  anew, 

Balm  on  the  wounded  pour. 

What  is  rigid,  gently  bend, 
On  what  is  cold,  Thy  fervour  send, 
What  has  stray'd,  restore. 

To  Thine  own  in  every  place 
Give  the  sacred  sevenfold  grace, 
Give  Thy  faithful  this. 

Give  to  virtue  its  reward, 
Safe  and  peaceful  end  afford, 
Give  eternal  bliss. 


TO  THE  HOLY  SPIKIT.  187 

TO  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 
ADAM  OF  ST  VICTOR. 

(  Vent,  Creator  Spiritus,  Spiritus  Recreator.) 

Come,  Creator-Spirit  high, 

Re-creating  ever ; 
Giv'n  and  giving  from  the  sky, 

Thou  the  Gift  and  Giver. 
Thou  the  Law  within  us  writ, 
Finger  Thou  that  writeth  it, 

Inspired  and  Inspirer ! 

With  thy  sevenfold  graces  good 

Sevenfold  gifts  be  given, 
For  sevenfold  beatitude 

And  petitions  seven  * 
Thou  the  pure,  unstained  snow, 
That  shall  never  sullied  flow; 
Fire  that  burns  not  though  it  glow; 
Wrestler  ne'er  defeat  to  know, 

Giving  words  of  wisdom. 

Kindle  Thou  Thyself  in  us, 

Thou  both  Light  and  Fire ; 
Thou  Thyself  still  into  us, 

Breath  of  Life,  inspire  ! 
Thou  the  Ray  and  Thou  the  Sun, 
Sent  and  Sender,  Thee  we  own  ; 
Of  the  Blessed  Three  in  One, 
Thee  we,  suppliant,  call  upon. 

Save  us  now  and  ever. 

*  The  seven  petitions  in  the  Lord's  Prayer. 


188  MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 


ON  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT. 
THOMAS  OF  CELANO — THIRTEENTH  CENTUET. 

{Dies  irce,  Dies  ilia.) 

Lo,  the  Day  of  wrath,  the  Day 
Earth  and  heaven  melt  away, 
David  and  the  Sybil  say. 

Stoutest  hearts  with  fear  shall  quiver, 
When  to  Him  who  erreth  never, 
All  must  strict  account  deliver. 

Lo,  the  trumpet's  wondrous  pealing, 
Flung  through  each  sepulchral  dwelling, 
All  before  the  throne  compelling  ! 

Nature  shrinks  appall'd,  and  death, 
When  the  dead  regain  their  breath  ; 
To  the  Judge  each  answereth. 

Then  the  Written  Book  is  set, 
All  things  are  contain'd  in  it, 
Thence  each  learns  his  sentence  meet. 

When  the  Judge  appears  again, 
Hidden  things  shall  be  made  plain, 
Nothing  unavenged  remain. 

What  shall  I,  unworthy,  plead  ? 
Who  for  me  will  intercede, 
When  the  just  will  mercy  need  ? 

King  of  dreadful  majesty, 

Who  sav'st  the  saved,  of  mercy  free, 

Fount  of  pity,  save  Thou  me ! 


ON  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.  189 

Think  of  me,  good  Lord,  I  pray, 
Who  trodd'st  for  me  the  bitter  way, 
Nor  forsake  me  in  that  Day. 

Weary  sat'st  Thou  seeking  me, 
Diedst  redeeming  on  the  Tree  ; 
Not  in  vain  such  toil  can  be  ! 

Judge  avenging,  let  me  win 
Free  remission  of  my  sin, 
Ere  that  dreadful  Day  begin. 

Sinful,  o'er  my  sins  I  groan, 

Guilt  my  crimson'd  face  must  own, 

Spare,  0  God,  Thy  suppliant  one ! 

Mary  was  by  Thee  forgiven, 

To  the  thief  Thou  open'dst  heaven, 

Hope  to  me,  too,  Thou  hast  given. 

All  unworthy  is  my  prayer ; 
Gracious  One,  be  gracious  there  ; 
From  that  quenchless  fire,  oh  spare ! 

Place  Thou  me  at  Thy  right  hand, 
'Mongst  Thy  sheep,  oh  make  me  stand, 
Far  from  the  convicted  band. 

When  the  accursed  condemn'd  shall  be, 
Doom'd  to  keenest  flames  by  Thee, 
'Midst  the  blessed  call  Thou  me. 

Contrite  suppliant,  I  pray, 
Ashes  on  my  heart  I  lay, 
Care  Thou  for  me  in  that  Day  1 


190  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

THE  RESURRECTION  DAY. 
FROM  A  POEM  OF  THE  TWELFTH  CENTURY,  BY  AN  UNKNOWN  AUTHOR. 

{Dies  ilia,  Dies  vitce.) 

Lo,  the  Day — the  Day  of  Life, 

Day  of  unimagined  light, 
Day  when  Death  itself  shall  die, 

And  there  shall  be  no  more  night. 

Steadily  that  Day  approacheth, 
When  the  just  shall  find  their  rest, 

When  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
And  the  patient  reign  most  blest. 

See  the  King  desired  for  ages, 

By  the  just  expected  long ; 
Long  implored,  at  length  He  hasteth, 

Cometh  with  salvation  strong. 

Oh,  how  past  all  utterance  happy, 

Sweet  and  joyful  it  will  be 
When  they  who,  unseen,  have  loved  Him, 

Jesus  face  to  face  shall  see ! 

In  that  Day,  how  good  and  pleasant, 
This  poor  world  to  have  despised ! 

And  how  mournful,  and  how  bitter, 
Dear  that  lost  world  to  have  prized ! 

Blessed,  then,  earth's  patient  mourners, 
Who  for  Christ  have  toil'd  and  died, 

Driven  by  the  world's  rough  pressure 
In  those  mansions  to  abide ! 

There  shall  be  no  sighs  or  weeping, 
Not  a  shade  of  doubt  or  fear, 


DAMIANI  ON  THE  JOYS  OF  HEAVEN.  19] 

No  old  age,  no  want  or  sorrow, 
Nothing  sick  or  lacking  there. 

There  the  peace  will  be  unbroken, 

Deep  and  solemn  joy  be  shed  ; 
Youth  in  fadeless  flower  and  freshness, 

And  salvation  perfected, 

What  will  be  the  bliss  and  rapture 
None  can  dream  and  none  can  tell, 

There  to  reign  among  the  angels, 
In  that  heavenly  home  to  dwell. 

To  those  realms,  just  Judge,  oh  call  me, 

Deign  to  open  that  blest  gate, 
Thou  whom,  seeking,  looking,  longing, 

I,  with  eager  hope,  await ! 

THE  JOYS   OF  HEAVEN. 
CARDINAL   PETER   DAMIAN I— 100S-1072. 

(Ad  perennis  vitce  forUem  mens  sitivit  arida.) 

In  the  Fount  of  life  perennial  the  parched  heart  its  thirst 

would  slake, 
And  the  soul,  in  flesh  imprison'd,  longs  her  prison  walls  to 

break — 
Exile,  seeking,  sighing,  yearning,  in  her  fatherland  to  wake. 

When  with  cares  oppress'd  and  sorrows,  only  groans  her  grief 

can  tell, 
Then  she  contemplates  the  glory  which  she  lost  when  first 

she  fell ; 
Present  evil  but  the  memory  of  the  vanish'd  good  can  swell. 

Who  can  utter  what  the  pleasures  and  the  peace  unbroken  are, 
Where  arise  the  pearly  mansions,  shedding  silvery  light  afar, 
Festive  seats  and  golden  roofs,  which  glitter  like  the  evening  star f 


192  MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 

Wholly  of  fair  stones  most  precious  are  those  radiant  struc- 
tures made, 

With  pure  gold,  like  glass  transparent,  are  those  shining  streets 
inlaid, 

Nothing  that  denies  can  enter,  nothing  that  can  soil  or  fade. 

Stormy  winter,  burning  summer, rage  within  those  regions  never, 
But  perpetual  bloom  of  roses  and  unfading  spring  for  ever  ; 
Lilies  gleam,  the  crocus  glows,  and  dropping  balms  their  scents 
deliver. 

Honey  pure,  and  greenest  pastures,  this  the  land  of  promise  is, 
Liquid  odours  soft  distilling,  perfumes  breathing  on  the  breeze; 
Fruits  immortal  cluster  always  on  the  leafy  fadeless  trees. 

There  no  moon  shines  chill  and  changing,  there  no  stars  with 

twinkling  ray, 
For  the  Lamb  of  that  blest  city  is  at  once  the  Sun  and  Day ; 
Night  and  time  are  known  no  longer,  day  shall  never  fade  away. 

There  the  saints  like  suns  are  radiant,  like  the  sun  at  dawn 

they  glow ; 
Crowned  victors  after  conflict,  all  their  joys  together  flow, 
And  secure  they  count  the  battles  where  they  fought  the 

prostrate  foe. 

Every  stain  of  flesh  is  cleansed,  every  strife  is  left  behind, 

Spiritual  are  their  bodies,  perfect  unity  of  mind ; 

Dwelling  in  deep  peace  for  ever,  no  offence  or  grief  they  find. 

Putting  off  their  mortal  vesture,  in  their  Source  their  souls 

they  steep — 
Truth  by  actual  vision  learning,  on  its  form  their  gaze  they 

keep — 
Drinking  from  the  living  Fountain  draughts  of  living  waters 

deep. 


DAMIANI  ON  THE  JOYS  OF  HEAVEN.         103 

Time,  with  all  its  alternations,  enters  not  those  hosts  among  ; 
Glorious,  wakeful,  blest,  no  shade  of  chance  or  change  o'er 

them  is  flung ; 
Sickness  cannot  touch  the  deathless,  nor  old  age  the  ever  young. 

There  their  being  is  eternal,  things  that  cease  have  ceased  to  be  ; 
All  corruption  there  has  perish'd,  there  they  flourish  strong 

and  free  : 
Thus  mortality  is  swallow'd  up  of  life  eternally. 

Nought   from   them   is   hidden,  knowing   Him  to  whom  all 

things  are  known, 
All  the  spirit's  deep  recesses,  sinless,  to  each  other  shewn, — 
Unity  of  will  and  purpose,  heart  and  mind  for  ever  one. 

Diverse  as  their  varied  labours  the  rewards  to  each  that  fall, 
But  Love  what  she  loves  in  others,  evermore  her  own  doth  call ; 
Thus  the  several  joy  of  each  becomes  the  common  joy  of  alL 

Where  the  body  is,  there  ever  are  the  eagles  gathered, 

For  the  saints  and  for  the  angels  one  most  blessed  feast  is 

spread, — 
Citizens  of  either  country  living  on  the  selfsame  bread. 

Erer  fill'd,  and  ever  seeking,  what  they  have  they  still  desire  ; 
Hunger  there  shall  fret  them  never,  nor  satiety  shall  tire, — 
Still  enjoying  whilst  aspiring,  in  their  joy  they  still  aspire. 

There  the  new  song,  new  for  ever,  those  melodious  voices  sing, 
Ceaseless   streams    of  fullest    music   through   those   blessed 

regions  ring  ; 
Crowned  victors  ever  bringing  praises  worthy  of  the  King  ! 

Blessed  who  the  King  of  heaven  in  His  beauty  thus  behold, 
And  beneath  His  throne  rejoicing  see  the  universe  unfold, — 
Sun  and  moon,  and  stars  and  planets,  radiant  in  His  light 
unroll'd  ! 


194  MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 

Christ,  the  Palm  of  faithful  victors  !  of  that  city  make  me  free ; 
When  my  warfare  shall  be  ended,  to  its  mansions  lead  Thou 

me, — 
Grant  me,  with  its  happy  inmates,  sharer  of  Thy  gifts  to  be  ! 

Let  Thy  soldier,  yet  contending,  still  be  with  Thy  strength 

supplied ; 
Thou  will  not  deny  the  quiet  when  the  arms  are  laid  aside  ; 
Make  me  meet  with  Thee  for  ever  in  that  country  to  abide  ! 

ON  THE  JOYS  OF  HEAVEN. 
THOMAS  1  KEMPIS— 1380-1471. 

High  the  angel  choirs  are  raising 

Heart  and  voice  in  harmony  ; 
The  Creator  King  still  praising, 

Whom  in  beauty  there  they  see. 

Sweetest  strains,  from  soft  harps  stealing  ; 
Trumpets,  notes  of  triumph  pealing  ; 
Radiant  wings  and  white  stoles  gleaming, 
Up  the  steps  of  glory  streaming ; 
Where  the  heavenly  bells  are  ringing, 
Holy,  holy,  holy  !  singing 

To  the  mighty  Trinity  ! 
Holy,  holy,  holy  !  crying ; 
For  all  earthly  care  and  sighing 

In  that  city  cease  to  be  ! 

Every  voice  is  there  harmonious, 
Praising  God  in  hymns  symphonious  ; 
Love  each  heart  with  light  enfolding, 
As  they  stand  in  peace  beholding 

There  the  Triune  Deity  ! 
Whom  adore  the  seraphim, 


st  Stephen's  day.  195 

Aye  with  love  eternal  burning ; 
Venerate  the  cherubim, 

To  their  fount  of  honour  turning  ; 
Whilst  angelic  thrones  adoring 
Gaze  upon  His  majesty. 

Oh  how  beautiful  that  region, 
And  how  fair  that  heavenly  legion, 

Where  thus  men  and  angels  blend  t 
Glorious  will  that  city  be, 
Full  of  deep  tranquillity, 

Light  and  peace  from  end  to  end ! 
All  the  happy  dwellers  there 

Shine  in  robes  of  purity, 

Keep  the  law  of  charity, 

Bound  in  firmest  unity  ; 
Labour  finds  them  not,  nor  care. 

Ignorance  can  ne'er  perplex, 

Nothing  tempt  them,  nothing  vex ; 

Joy  and  health  their  fadeless  blessing,    - 

Always  all  things  good  possessing. 

st  Stephen's  day. 

ADAM  OF  ST  VICTOR. 

(Heri  mundus  exultavit.) 
Yesterday  the  happy  earth 
Peal'd  her  grateful  praises  forth, 

Keeping  Christ's  nativity ; 
Yesterday  the  angel  throng 
Met  the  King  of  heaven  with  song, 

And  with  high  festivity. 

Protomartyr  in  the  strife, 
Noble  both  in  faith  and  life, 

Wonder-working  gifts  receiving, 


106  MEDIEVAL  HYMNS. 

Thou,  0  Stephen,  'neath  that  Light, 
Triumphedst  with  heavenly  might, 
Braving  all  the  unbelieving  ! 

Light's  foes,  like  wild  beasts  at  bay, 
Quivering  crouch  to  seize  their  prey, 

By  Thy  words  of  truth  heart-stung ; 
Lying  witnesses  they  bring, 
Viper's  brood  with  viper's  sting, 

Poisonous  and  lying  tongue. 

Noble  wrestler,  yield  to  none, 
For  thy  victory  must  be  won  ; 

Stephen,  struggle  bravely  through  ! 
Those  false  witnesses  refute, 
Satan's  synagogue  confute, 

With  thy  holy  speech  and  true. 

From  heaven  thy  Witness  watcheth  thee, 
True  and  faithful  Witness  He, 

Witness  of  thine  innocence  ; 
Stephen,  crown'd  one  is  thy  name — 
Light  the  torture  and  the  shame 

For  that  crown  of  light  intense. 

For  that  crown  that  cannot  wither, 

Press  through  these  brief  torments  thither- 

Triumph  shall  reward  thy  strife : 
Death  is  thy  nativity, 
And  thy  sufferings'  close  shall  be 

The  beginning  of  thy  life  ! 

The  Holy  Spirit  filleth  him, 
And  his  sight  no  more  is  dim, 
Piercing  heaven  with  dying  eyes ; 


ON  MARTYRDOM.  197 

He  sees  the  glory  of  his  God, 
Sigheth  for  that  blest  abode, 
Pressing  forward  to  the  prize. 

Jesus  on  God's  right  hand  standing, 
Standing  and  for  thee  contending — 

Stephen,  lift  thine  eyes  and  see  ! 
Jesus  to  thy  vision  given, 
Christ  for  thee  unclosing  heaven  ; 

Call  on  Him,  He  watcheth  thee  ! 

Then  his  spirit  he  commends 
To  that  Saviour,  Friend  of  friends, 
For  whose  sake  he  deems  it  sweet 
All  that  rage  and  pain  to  meet, 

Sweet  to  die  beneath  those  stones  ! 
Saul  the  murderers'  raiment  keepeth, 
In  that  crime  his  heart  he  steepeth, 

As  his  own  each  blow  he  owns. 

Lest  the  sin  to  them  be  laid, 

By  whose  hands  his  blood  was  shed, 

Kneeling  down,  for  them  he  pray'd, 

Rendering  pity  for  the  wrong. 
Thus  in  Christ  he  calmly  slept 
Who  so  true  to  Christ  had  kept, 
And  with  Christ  he  reigneth  ever — 
Ever  since,  and  still  for  ever, 

First-fruits  of  the  martyr  throng  ! 

ON  AFFLICTION. 

FROM  A  HYMN  ON  THE  MARTYRDOM  OF  ST  LAWRENCE,  LY  ADAM  OF 

ST  VICTOR. 

(Sicut  chorda  musicorum.) 
As  the  harp-strings  only  render 
All  their  treasures  of  sweet  sound, 


198  MEDIAEVAL  HYMNS. 

All  their  music,  glad  or  tender, 
Firmly  struck  and  tightly  bound : 

So  the  hearts  of  Christians  owe 
Each  its  deepest,  sweetest  strain, 

To  the  pressure  firm  of  woe, 
And  the  tension  tight  of  pain. 

Spices  crush'd  their  pungence  yield, 
Trodden  scents  their  sweets  respire  ; 

Would  you  have  its  strength  reveal'd, 
Cast  the  incense  in  the  fire  : 

Thus  the  crush'd  and  broken  frame 

Oft  doth  sweetest  graces  yield  ; 
And  through  suffering,  toil,  and  shame, 
From  the  martyr's  keenest  flame 

Heavenly  incense  is  distill'd  ! 

ALLELUIA  DULCE  CARMEN. 

Alleluia !  sweetest  music,  voice  of  everlasting  joy ! 
Alleluia  is  the  language  which  the  heavenly  choirs  employ, 
As  they  ever  sing  to  God,  in  that  pure  and  blest  abode. 

Alleluia  !  joyful  mother,  true  Jerusalem  above  ! 
Alleluia  is  the  music  which  thy  happy  children  love  ; 
Exiles,  tears  our  songs  must  steep  ;  oft  by  Babel's  streams  we 
weep. 

Alleluia  cannot  ever  be  our  joyous  psalm  below  ; 
Alleluia ! — sin  will  cross  it  often  here  with  tones  of  woe  ; 
Many  a  mournful  hour  we  know,  when  our  tears  for  sin  must 
flow. 

Therefore,  'mid  our  tears  still  praising,  grant  us,  Blessed  Trinity, 
Thy  true  Paschal  Feast  hereafter  in  the  heavenly  home  to  see, 
Where  our  song  shall  ever  be,  Alleluia  unto  Thee  ! 


CHAPTER    IX. 


MEDIEVAL  RELIGION. 


When  Clive,  and  Warren  Hastings,  and  the  Indian  ad- 
venturers of  the  last  century,  returned  from  the  East 
Indies  with  princely  fortunes,  the  popular  conclusion 
was,  that  India  must  he  a  land  of  fabulous  wealth,  in- 
stead of  being,  as  it  is,  a  country  whose  rare  oases  of 
magnificence  are  surrounded  by  wide  wastes  of  poverty, 
such  as  England  never  dreamed  of.  In  gathering  to- 
gether all  the  treasures  of  faith  and  pure  devotion  which 
we  can  find  in  the  hymn  literature  of  the  middle  ages,  we 
must  be  careful  not  to  make  a  similar  mistake.  These 
gems  and  this  gold  do  not  come  from  a  land  of  gold  and 
gems,  where  they  can  be  picked  up  everywhere  at  ran- 
dom ;  they  are  often  dug  from  deep  mines,  and  they  too 
frequently  flash  across  a  chaos  of  ignorance  and  darkness. 
They  shew,  indeed,  what  true  Christian  life  was  in  the 
middle  ages,  but  they  do  not  shew  what  mediaeval  reli- 
gion was.  They  prove  that  "all  our  fathers  were  under 
the  cloud,  and  all  passed  through  the  sea,  and  all  ate  the 
same  spiritual  meat,  and  all  drank  the  same  spiritual 
drink  ;  for  they  drank  of  that  spiritual  Rock  which  fol- 
lowed them :  and  that  Rock  was  Christ."     But  they  by 


200  MEDIEVAL  RELIGION. 

no  means  illustrate  what  the  common  religious  food  of  the 
middle  ages  unhappily  was.  To  form  to  ourselves  a  true 
picture  of  this,  we  may  glance  through  the  general  mass 
of  the  hymns  of  those  centuries.  f;Out  of  the  heart  are 
the  issues  of  life,"  bitter  or  sweet ;  and,  long  before  error 
has  been  stereotyped  into  a  creed,  it  has  echoed  from 
the  hearts  of  the  people  in  hymns.  We  need  only  study 
the  sacred  poetry  of  the  middle  ages  to  understand  why 
the  Reformation  was  needed. 

One  painfully  expressive  fact  meets  us  at  the  outset. 
Of  Mone's  "  Collection  of  the  Latin  Hymns  of  the  Middle 
Ages,"  in  three  volumes,  one  is  tilled  with  hymns  to  God 
and  the  angels ;  one  with  hymns  to  the  blessed  Virgin 
Mary;  and  one  with  hymns  to  the  saints.  Among  the 
hymns  to  God,  in  themselves  not  sufficient  to  fill  one  of 
these  volumes,  are  included  invocations  to  the  transub- 
stantiated host,  and  to  the  material  cross ;  and  in  the 
hymns  to  our  Saviour  are  in  troduced,  not  seldom,  invoca- 
tions to  the  Virgin  Mary.  At  the  same  time,  it  should 
be  said  that  some  of  the  more  beautiful  hymns  here 
translated  have  been  selected  from  Daniel's  "Thesaurus" 
and  Trench's  "  Latin  Poetry  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  and  are 
not  contained  in  Mone's  collection. 

The  hymns  to  the  saints  are  of  every  variety  of  tone, 
from  tender  commemorations  of  the  forgiveness  and  love 
of  the  Magdalene,  or  a  heart-stirring  narrative  of  the 
martyrdom  and  rejoicing  faith  of  Stephen,  to  sentimental 
spiritual  love-songs,  or  repulsive  catalogues  of  tortures, 
which  may  perhaps  have  served  as  copy-books  to  the  In- 
quisition. Of  all  the  lives  of  the  saints,  the  truest  com- 
prehension of  the  only  title  by  which  any  fallen  man  can 


MARY  MAGDALENE.  201 

enter  heaven  seems  to  have  been  preserved  in  that  of 
Mary  Magdalene.  She  is  spoken  of  in  the  hymns  and 
sequences  as  the  forgiven  sinner  (the  incident  in  Luke  vii. 
being  ascribed  to  her),  loving  much  because  forgiven 
much  ;  fearing  not  the  scornful  crowd  of  Pharisees,  if 
only  she  could  reach  Jesus ;  bathing  with  her  tears  the 
feet  of  Him  who  washed  her  from  her  sins  in  His  own 
blood;  receiving  the  assurance  of  absolution;  and,  full  of 
undying  gratitude,  the  first  at  the  sepulchre,  and  the  first 
to  see  the  risen  Lord, — the  great  example  of  His  grace  and 
pity.  And  although,  even  here,  her  love  is  sometimes 
more  dwelt  on  than  the  love  of  Christ  in  pardoning  her, 
yet  enough  is  left  to  direct  any  heart  burdened  with  sin 
to  the  Fountain  of  love  and  forgiveness  which  was 
opened  to  her.  The  following  sentence,  from  one  of  the 
sequences  in  commemoration  of  her,  enters  deeply  into 
the  blessed  meaning  of  that  incident  in  the  house  of 
Simon  the  Pharisee.  It  is  a  concentration  of  many  truths 
in  one  brief  sentence  : — 

"  The  sinner  condemns  his  fellow-sinner.  Thou,  who 
knowest  no  sin,  receivest  the  penitent,  purifiest  the  im- 
pure, lovest  that  Thou  mayest  make  beautiful ! " 

But  through  the  greater  number  of  these  rhymed 
narratives  and  invocations,  little,  indeed,  of  the  light  of 
God's  love  penetrates;  in  many  of  them  we  can  trace  Little 
even  of  the  true  conception  of  human  heroism.  The  glory 
of  the  martyrdom  is  too  often  made  to  consist  rather  in 
the  tortures  than  in  the  love,  and  the  confession,  and  the 
courage  it  inspired.  There  is  a  kind  of  revelling  in  the 
number  and  intensity  of  the  torments  inflicted,  as  if  pain 
were  the  coin  for  which  God  gave  heavenly  honours  in 


202  MEDIEVAL  RELIGION. 

exchange  ;  as  if  sorrow  and  suffering  were  good  in  them- 
selves, and  not  only  for  what  they  bring  or  work. 

Thus  gradually,  as  it  ever  must  be,  the  human  virtues 
which  were  enthroned  in  the  place  of  God's  love  and  grace 
lost  their  beauty,  and,  in  hiding  the  light,  themselves 
grew  dark.  As  with  the  Rosamond's  jar  of  our  child- 
hood, the  colours  of  the  contents  were  transferred  in 
imagination  to  the  vessel  which  contained  them,  and  it 
was  not  till  the  contents  were  lost  that  the  beauty  was 
seen  to  have  dwelt  in  these  alone. 

Then,  as  mediaeval  hymn  literature  became  further 
degraded  from  a  sacred  work  in  honour  of  God  to  a 
literary  pastime,  the  monks  played  with  the  names  of  the 
saints,  and  made  religious  puns  about  the  crown  of  St 
Stephen,  Margaret  Pearl  of  Paradise,  St  Lance  and  the 
lance  which  pierced  the  side  of  Christ. 

The  word  holy  also  remarkably  changes  its  meaning  in 
these  hymns,  and,  from  an  attribute  of  God  and  spiritual 
natures,  becomes  regarded  as  a  quality  of  material  and 
inanimate  things.  There  were  holy  hours  and  holy  days, 
and  holy  buildings  and  holy  wood,  and  holy  water  and 
holy  oil,  and  holy  bread,  and  holy  stones,  and  holy  bones, 
— as  if  the  soul  could  gather  holiness,  the  nature  of  her 
God,  from  things  in  which  no  moral  attribute  could  reside! 
Lower  than  this  religion  cannot  sink,  from  the  worship 
of  the  living  God  to  the  worship  of  lifeless  charms ;  yet, 
to  this  point  the  religion  of  the  middle  ages  can,  unhap- 
pily, be  traced  in  some  of  its  hymns,  especially  in  those 
to  the  Cross,  and  in  those  to  the  impression  of  the  "  Holy 
Face  of  the  Redeemer,"  left  on  the  cloth  with  which  St 
Veronica  wiped  the  sweat  from  that  sacred -brow. 


THE  VIRGIN  MARY.  203 

But  the  groat  characteristic  worship,  which  gradually 
gathered  to  itself  the  warmest  affections  of  the  heart, 
was  the  worship  of  Mary,  the  ideal  of  every  feminine 
grace  and  virtue,  the  Virgin-Mother ;  and  this  can  be 
traced  from  its  commencement  in  the  hymns. 

In  the  earliest  Greek  hymns  given  in  Daniel's  Thesaurus 
no  trace  of  this  worship  is  visible  ;  and  of  all  the  Greek 
hymns  collected  by  him,  ranging  from  the  third  century 
to  the  twelfth,  only  two  are  professedly,  from  beginning 
to  end,  addressed  to  Mary,  these  being  of  the  latest  date ; 
but  in  the  fourth  century  the  germs  are  but  too  visible. 
The  great  oriental  festival  of  the  manifestation  of  Christ 
as  God  at  His  baptism  was  not  linked  with  the  life  of  the 
Virgin  ;  it  is  through  the  nativity  that  the  exaggerated 
reverence  first  creeps  in.  The  Scripture  narrative  is  lost 
sight  of  in  the  heat  of  controversy  about  the  union  of  the 
Divine  and  human  natures  in  the  person  of  Christ,  and 
Mary  is  enthroned  as  the  mother  of  God.  One  title  after 
another  is  lavished  on  her,  as  the  natural  consequence  of 
this  supreme  title :  All  holy,  surpassingly  holy,  Mother 
of  the  unsetting  Sun,  Lady,  Queen  ! — what  title  is  too  lofty 
to  follow  when  once  it  was  forgotten  that  the  glory  of 
the  incarnation  lay  in  its  infinite  condescension,  in  the 
wondrous  grace  which  made  the  Lord  of  glory  stoop  so 
low ;  that  the  glory  of  all  connected  with  Him  consists 
not  in  what  they  are,  but  in  what  He  is  1  The  mistaken 
reverence,  the  utter  misapprehension  of  the  object  of  the 
incarnation,  which  threw  this  false  lustre  on  the  mother 
of  Jesus,  ) 'lotting  out  her  true  blessedness,  should  have 
traced  the  pedigree  of  Christ  as  a  line  of  light  through 
the  history  of  man,  illuminated  with  none  but  the  most 


204  MEDIAEVAL  RELIGION". 

saintly  names,   and   should   surely  Lave  effaced  those  of 
Ttahab  and  of  "  her  who  had  been  the  wife  of  Uriah." 

But  there  was  another  error,  as  pernicious  and  as  wide- 
spread, which  contributed  to  swell  the  tide  of  Mariolatry, 
the  error  which  lost  half  the  lessons  of  Jewish  history 
and  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  threw  Christendom  back  to 
the  wilderness  and  the  camel's  hair  for  its  pattern,  instead 
1  of  to  the  home  at  Nazareth  :  the  error  which  peopled 
deserts  with  isolated  atoms  of  humanity,  and  desecrated 
homes.  Monasticism  added  another  step  to  the  throne  of 
Mary  ;  and  the  adoration  of  Mary  the  mother  of  God 
became  absorbed  in  that  of  St  Mary  the  Virgin.  It  is 
chiefly  in  this  aspect  that  the  early  Latin  hymns  regard 
her — the  pure  vessel  worthy  of  the  great  honour  bestowed 
on  it,  meet,  in  her  spotless  purity,  to  be  the  gate  through 
which  life  should  enter  the  world,  "  the  birth  which 
becomes  God."  Yet,  throughout  the  Ambrosian  hymns 
there  is  not  one  especially  addressed  to  her  ;  and  if  she 
received  a  homage  no  creature,  unfallen  or  redeemed, 
could  desire,  less  than  any  that  lowly  and  most  blessed 
handmaid  of  the  Lord,  still  the  homage  was  rendered 
for  Jesus'  sake.  Steadily,  however,  that  great  idolatry 
advanced,  gathering  strength  from  the  weaknesses  of 
humanity,  and  from  its  virtues,  its  asceticism,  and  its 
tenderness.  Little  nourishment,  indeed,  could  it  by  any 
ingenuity  extract  from  the  Bible,  from  the  sorrowful 
search  at  Jerusalem,  from  the  marriage-feast  at  Can  a, 
from  the  Cross — where  the  last  agony  could  not  extinguish 
the  tenderness  of  Jesus,  nor  that  surpassing  tenderness 
draw  from  Him  one  word  which  might  have  misled  His 
Church — from  the   benediction  which  merged   even   her 


ADORATION  OF  MARY.  205 

blessedness  as  His  mortal  mother  in  tlie  yet  deeper 
blessedness  of  His  purchased  and  espoused  Church.  The 
Bible  had  therefore  to  be  laid  aside ;  of  all  the  incidents 
of  Mary's  life  recorded  there,  scarcely  one  is  touched  on  in 
these  hymns  except  the  birth  of  Jesus.  Tradition  wove  a 
gorgeous  robe  for  her,  and  dressed  her  life  in  a  false  history, 
from  the  immaculate  conception  to  the  glorious  assumption 
into  heaven  ;  the  true  Mary,  and  her  lowly  and  feminine 
life,  are  altogether  hidden  ;  and  instead  of  that  pure  and 
humble  form,  with  her  heavenly  ornament  of  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit,  a  Queen  stands  before  us,  arrayed  in  vulgar 
gold  and  earthly  jewels,  a  goddess  magnificent  as  any  of 
old.  Not,  indeed,  that  the  light  of  Christianity  altogether 
ceased  to  shine  even  on  that  unchristian  worship.  Never 
was  a  purer  or  more  beautiful  ideal  adored  instead  of  God. 
All  that  was  beneficent  in  man,  tender  and  pure  in 
woman,  and  gracious  in  God,  was  concentrated  in  Mary, 
mother,  maiden,  queen  !  No  sorrow  was  too  minute  or 
too  deep  to  be  poured  out  on  that  gentle  heart ;  no  work 
was  too  mighty  for  the  mother  of  God  to  accomplish  by 
her  commanding  intercession.  Pure  as  the  angels,  she 
had  the  pity  of  the  mother  for  the  fallen  child.  But 
beautiful  as  the  image  was,  it  was  not  divine;  and  high 
as  the  example  was,  it  was  but  one-sided — it  could  not  bo 
complete  as  that  of  the  Son  of  man.  That  perfect 
character,  and  that  life  of  labour  and  service  ;  that 
unflinching  courage,  untiring  energy,  and  ever  ready 
wisdom,  beyond  which  no  man  could  aspire  ;  and  that 
patient  endurance  and  overflowing  sympathy,  deeper  than 
the  depths  of  any  woman's  heart,  were  replaced  by  an 
ideal  which,  pure,  and  lowly,  and  exalted  as  it  was,  could 


206  MEDIEVAL  RELIGION. 

not  be  a  model  for  men,  and  could  be  but  a  negative 
model  for  women.  The  love  which  could  only  pity  was  a 
weak  substitute  indeed  for  the  love  which  had  redeemed 
and  would  save.  Of  all  the  moral  evils  which  were 
reflected  back  from  this  idolatry  on  the  worshipper — the 
false  estimate  of  woman,  the  false  estimate  of  married 
life,  and  the  false  thoughts  of  God — enough  cannot  easily 
be  said.  Beside  the  worship  of  Mary  grew  Monasticism 
and  Chivalry.  A  negative  or  a  romantic  moral  ideal  took 
the  place  of  that  perfect  example  which  God  has  given 
and  unfolded  to  us  in  the  self-sacrificing  love,  the  un- 
wearying benevolence,  and  the  pity  unto  death  of  His 
own  beloved  Son. 

And,  sadder  even  yet  than  this,  all  the  tender  and  mer- 
ciful graces  of  which  Mary  was  looked  on  as  the  source 
and  the  type  were  abstracted  from  the  portrait  of  Jesus, 
until  gradually  the  infinite  and  tender  pity  of  His  coun- 
tenance and  His  words  were  forgotten,  and  He  stood 
before  the  awe-stricken  conscience  as  the  stern  and  aveng- 
ing Judge.  Further  yet,  all  the  love  and  grace  were 
drawn  down  from  the  Trinity  on  the  countenance  of 
Mary  :  the  love  of  the  Father  was  forgotten  in  the  tender- 
ness of  the  mother,  the  redeeming  sorrows  of  the  Saviour 
were  eclipsed  by  the  sympathetic  sorrows  of  the  pierced 
heart  of  Mary,  the  consolations  of  the  Comforter  seemed 
cold  beside  the  pity  of  Mary,  consolation  of  the  afflicted ! 
Thus  the  relations  of  the  three  persons  of  the  Godhead 
towards  man  were;  transferred  to  her.  Mary  was  the 
mother,  the  saving  intercessor,  the  true  comforter  j  and, 
in  proportion  as  the  belief  gained  ground,  the  worship  of 
the  Trinity  itself  tended  towards  becoming  merely  another 


AVE  MARIS  STELLA.  207 

idolatry  of  tlircc  distant  and  divine  beings,  who  had  no 
distinct  and  near  relationship  to  man,  or  had,  at  least, 
practically  very  little  to  do  with  him,  but  reigned  on  high 
thrones  far  up  in  heaven,  to  be  worshipped  on  Sundays 
and  certain  holidays,  whilst  Mary  received  the  first  lisp- 
ing prayer  of  the  child,  the  morning  and  evening  hymn, 
the  cry  of  the  distressed,  and  the  thanksgiving  of  the 
rescued. 

A  few  specimens  from  the  mediaeval  Marian  hymns 
may  sufficiently  illustrate  this  painful  subject.  The  trans- 
lations will  be  given  quite  literally  in  prose,  as  indications 
of  the  perplexities  through  which  the  true  Christian  life 
of  the  middle  ages  had  to  struggle. 

AVE  MARIS  STELLA. 

Hail !  Star  of  the  sea,  tender  mother  of  God,  and  ever  virgin, 
happy  gate  of  heaven  ! 

Receiving  that  Ave  from  the  mouth  of  Gabriel,  place  us  in 
peace,  reversing  the  name  of  Eva  ; 

Dissolve  the  chains  of  the  guilty,  give  light  to  the  blind, 
drive  away  our  evils,  request  all  good  things  ; 

Shew  thyself"  to  be  a  mother ;  let  Him  receive  prayer  through 
thee  who  for  our  sakes  bore  to  be  thy  Son. 

Matchless  virgin,  gentle  beyond  all,  make  us,  delivered  from 
our  sins,  gentle  and  chaste  ; 

Bestow  a  pure  life,  prepare  a  safe  way,  that,  seeing  Jesus,  we 
may  ever  rejoice  together  ! 

It  may  be  observed  that  the  title  "  Maris  Stella  "  was 
thought  peculiarly  applicable  to  Mary,  because  "  the 
gathering  together  of  the  waters  called  He  Maria?  a 
mystic  prophecy  of  her  who  should  be  the  fountain  of 
living  waters.     The  name  of  Eva  was  also  deemed  a  mira- 


208  MEDIEVAL  RELIGION. 

culous  foreshad owing  of  the  angelic  Ave  which  was  to 
reverse  the  curse  of  Eve.  To  such  trifling  could  sacred 
song  be  degraded,  when  it  became  an  amusement  for  the 
idleness  of  monks  instead  of  a  cordial  for  the  toils  and 
sorrows  of  working  men  and  women. 

The  celebrated  "  Stabat  Mater  Dolorosa  "  is  believed 
to  have  been  composed  in  the  thirteenth  century  by- 
Jacobus  de  Bcnedictis,  called  Jacopone,  an  Italian  noble- 
man, who,  after  the  sudden  death  of  his  wife,  became  a 
Franciscan  friar,  fervently  rebuked  the  vices  of  the  priest- 
hood, and  suffered  more  than  one  imprisonment  for  his 
daring. 

STABAT  MATER  DOLOROSA. 

The  mournful  mother  stood  tearful  beside  the  Cross  on 
which  her  Son  was  stretched,  her  sighing  soul,  mourning  and 
grieving  sore  with  Him,  the  cruel  sword  pierced  through. 

O  how  sad  and  how  afflicted  was  that  blessed  mother  of  the 
Only  Begotten  S  how  she  bewailed,  and  lamented,  and  trembled, 
when  she  saw  the  sufferings  of  her  matchless  Son  ! 

Where  the  man  who  would  not  weep  if  he  saw  the  mother 
of  Christ  in  such  anguish  ?  who  would  not  sympathise,  con- 
templating this:  tender  mother  weeping  with  her  Son  ? 

For  the  sins  of  His  people  she  saw  Jesus  in  torments  and 
subjected  to  stripes.  She  saw  her  sweet  Son  dying  forsaken 
whilst  He  yielded  up  His  spirit. 

Ah  mother,  fountain  of  love !  make  me  feel  the  force  of  grief, 
tliat  I  may  mourn  with  thee  ;  make  my  heart  burn  in  loving 
Christ  my  Cod,  that  I  may  please  Him! 

Holy  mother,  accomplish  this.  Engrave  the  wounds  of  the 
Crucified  deep  in  my  heart;  let  me  share  the  sufferings  of  thy 
wounded  Son  thus  deigning  to  suffer  for  me. 

Make  me  truly  weep  with  thee,  mourn  with  the  Crucified  as 


STABAT  MATER  DOLOROSA.  209 

long  as  I  shall  live ;  to  stand  with  thee  by  the  Cross,  and  be 
associated  with  thee  in  mourning,  this  1  desire. 

Virgin  of  virgins  illustrious,  be  not  now  bitter  to  me,  make 
me  mourn  with  thee,  make  me  carry  about  the  death  of 
Christ,  make  me  a  sharer  in  His  passion,  adoring  His  suf- 
fering. 

Let  me  be  wounded  with  those  wounds;  let  me  be  blessed 
in  the  Cross,  with  the  love  of  the  Son  enkindled  and  burn- 
ing; by  Thee,  gracious  One,  may  I  be  defended  in  the  day  of 
judgment. 

0  Christ,  when  I  go  hence,  give  me,  through  Thy  mother, 
to  attain  the  palm  of  victory  ;  when  my  body  shall  die,  let  my 
soul  be  given  to  the  glory  of  paradise. 

There  is  something  so  touching  in  the  thought  of  stand- 
ing with  the  mother  of  Jesus  beside  His  cross,  that,  at 
first  sight,  it  might  not  strike  us  how  deep  the  idolatry 
of  this  hymn  is;  how  perverted  the  devotion  must  be, 
which,  even  beside  the  cross  of  the  Redeemer,  in  the 
hour  of  His  dying  agony  for  us,  could  turn  aside  from 
Him  to  any  created  being,  and  be  content  to  look  at  Him 
who  give  Himself  for  us  only  through  the  pierced  heart 
of  the  mournful  mother. 

The  deepest  depth  of  this  Mariolatry  seems,  however,  to 
be  reached,  when  psalms  and  hymns  written  in  honour  of 
God  are  actually  transferred  to  Mary.  This  was,  unhap- 
pily, done  with  some  of  the  psalms,  and,  in  more  than  one 
version,  with  the  "  Te  Deum."  One  of  these  parodies  on 
the  "Te  Deum"  may  be  translated.  It  is  selected  by 
}ioiie,  instead  of  the  version  by  Biionaventura  given  by 
ielj  as  adhering  more  closely  to  the  original,  with  the 
title  of  the  Marian  Te  Deum. 


210  MEDIAEVAL  RELIGION. 


THE  MARIAN  TE  DEUM. 


We  praise  thee,  O  Mother :  we  acknowledge  thee  to  be  the 
Virgin. 

Thee,  Star  of  the  Sea,  the  splendour  of  the  Eternal  Father 
illuminates. 

To  thee  all  Angels  cry  aloud,  the  Heavens  and  all  the  Powers 
therein. 

The  Cherubim  and  Seraphim,  with  us,  with  lowly  voices  pro- 
claim, 

Virgin,  Virgin,  Virgin  of  virgins,  without  peer : 

Before  the  birth  (of  Jesus),  during  the  birth,  and  after  the 
birth. 

Thee,  glorious  Virgin,  the  ranks  of  Apostles  and  Prophets 
praise. 

Thee  the  Martyrs  testify  to  be  the  mother  of  their  Lord. 

The  holy  Church  throughout  all  the  world  doth  acknowledge 
thee 

Mother  of  an  infinite  Majesty, 

Venerated  Bride  of  God,  knowing  not  man,  conceiving  only 
by  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Thou  art  the  Queen  of  Heaven,  thou  art  the  Mistress  of  the 
whole  world. 

Thou,  to  deliver  fallen  man,  didst  clothe  in  flesh  the  Son  of 
the  Highest ; 

When  thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  thou 
didst  bring  forth  the  Life  from  thy  glorious  womb. 

Thou  art  the  Mother  of  the  Son  who  sitteth  at  the  right 
hand  of  God,  who  is  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead. 

We  therefore  pray  thee,  help  the  servants  of  Christ,  re- 
deemed by  the  precious  Fruit  of  thy  womb  ; 

Make  them  to  be  numbered  with  thy  saints  in  glory  ever- 
lasting. 

0  Lady,  save  thy  people :  let  the  heritage  of  Christ  be 
saved  by  thee. 


THE  MARIAN  TE  DEUM.  21  i 

Govern  them,  and  lift  them  np  for  ever. 

Day  by  day  we  bless  thee,  and  praise  the  name  of  the 
Highest,  who  made  thee  highest. 

Oh,  most  worthy  of  all  praise,  deign  to  be  praised  by  the  most 
unworthy. 

Have  mercy  upon  us,  0  Lady,  Mother  of  Mercy. 

Let  the  mercy  of  thy  Son  be  upon  us,  O  Lady,  on  us  who 
call  on  Him. 

In  thee,  O  Lady,  have  I  trusted ;  let  me  never  be  con- 
founded. 

Yet,  melancholy  as  the  profanity  of  this  composition  is, 
these  isolated  extravagances  are  of  little  moment  compared 
with  the  blasphemy  against  the  love  of  God  involved  in  the 
whole  worship  of  Mary ;  for  what  was  it,  or,  indeed,  the 
whole  system  of  a  propitiatory  human  priesthood  which 
grew  up  beside  it,  but  a  return  to  the  old,  bitter  blasphemy 
of  Eden,  that  God  is  reluctant  to  bestow  blessings  on  His 
creatures  ? — a  blasphemy  which  even  the  Cross  failed  to 
silence  !  This  falsehood,  rooted  so  deeply  in  the  fallen 
nature  of  man,  gathering  strength  from  the  heritage  of  sin 
to  which  it  led,  darkens  many  even  of  the  best  of  the  medi- 
aeval hymns.  The  Cross  itself  was  shadowed  by  it,  and 
seems  to  have  been  regarded  too  much  as  a  costly  purchase 
of  a  liberation  from  a  severe  Judge,  rather  than  as  the 
costly  Sacrifice  made  by  the  Father  to  save  His  perishing 
creatures.  Thus  the  bodily  torture  of  Calvary  was  dwelt 
on,  rather  than  its  redeeming  love.  Few  indeed  of  these 
hymns  rise  to  the  full  height  of  the  gospel,  and  gaze  with 
childlike  confidence  on  the  Father  as  the  Cheerful  Giver 
of  all  good  gifts,  the  infinitely  loving  Giver  of  the  unspeak- 
able Gift;  few  fathom  the  depths  of  the  parable  of  the 


212  MEDIAEVAL  EELIGION. 

prodigal  son.  Yet,  although  few  of  them  rise  to  the 
conscious  liberty  of  the  redeemed,  many  soar  uncon- 
sciously into  the  pure  element  of  joy,  only  by  gazing  on 
the  face  of  Jesus ;  and  many  more  fly  with  a  trembling 
hope  from  the  Judgment  Throne  to  the  Cross,  taking 
refuge  from  the  Judge-  with  Himself — safe,  indeed,  there ! 
And  how  blessed  to  wake  and  find  such  a  look  on  that 
face  as  the  sinful  woman  who  bathed  His  feet  saw  there, 
when  He  said,  "  Go  in  peace  ! "  or  the  Magdalene  at  the 
sepulchre;  or  Peter  in  that  untold  interview  after  the 
resurrection,  when  none  were  present  but  himself  and 
the  Lord  he  had  denied,  yet  loved,  deeply  as  that  Lord 
only  knew ! 

With  the  apprehension  of  the  love  of  God  was  lost  the 
sense  of  His  justice.  Instead  of  the  confident  and  most 
blessed  assurance  that  God  has  provided  a  ransom  for  us, 
that  His  irrevocable  law  is  satisfied,  and  His  whole  heart 
set  on  blessing  man,  crept  in  the  faint  hope  that  His  justice 
might  one  day  yield  a  little  to  His  mercy,  and  that  so  a 
few  might  struggle  into  heaven. 

It  was  precisely  at  this  point  that  the  mediation  of 
Mary  was  presented,  and  was  clung  to  with  desperate 
tenacity.  Of  her  motherly  tenderness,  it  was  thought, 
there  could  be  no  doubt,  whatever  might  be  entertained 
of  the  love  of  the  Father  or  the  grace  of  the  Saviour. 
Thus,  in  many  instances,  the  Enemy's  point  was  gained. 
Again  fallen  Adam  fled  from  God,  and,  shrinking  away 
too  far  to  catch  even  an  echo  of  the  promises  which  pur- 
sued him,  heard  only  the  thunders  of  the  law,  sawr  only 
the  flaming  sword,  and,  fleeing  further  and  further  into 
the  darkness,  took  refuge  in  a  woman's  pity,  or,  rather, 


MARY,  QUEEN  OF  HEAVEN.  213 

in  a  shadowy  vision  of  the  night.  For  all  the  while,  was 
not,  and  is  not,  her  happy  spirit  in  paradise  with  those  of 
all  the  forgiven  "spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,"  learning 
ever  more  and  more  of  that  tender  and  patient  and  life- 
giving  love  which  the  "exiled  sons  of  Eve"  were  flying 
from,  not  to  her  peaceful  spirit,  but  to  her  empty  name  ! 
This  superstition  grew  indeed  but  slowly  to  its  full 
height.  Century  after  century  added  some  stones  to  that 
altar,  and  it  was  not  until  the  latest  ages  that  the  form, 
once  known  only  as  the  joyful  mother  with  the  infant 
Saviour  in  her  arms,  or  the  mournful  mother  weeping  by 
the  cross,  was  altogether  dissociated  from  Him,  and  stood 
alone,  as  we  now  see  it  on  the  facude  of  Italian  churches, 
a  Crowned  Queen,  with  her  hands  outstretched  to  bless, 
concentrating  on  her  person  all  the  glory  of  the  Trinity 
above,  and  all  the  adoration  of  humanity  below.  Would, 
indeed,  that  this  were  only  the  picture  of  an  obsolete  re- 
ligion, that  these  Marian  hymns  were  only  fossil  speci- 
mens of  an  extinct  idolatry  !  Luther  struck  at  the  root 
of  this  and  all  other  superstitions,  when  he  proclaimed 
that  God  is  revealed  to  us  in  the  Bible,  not  as  an  Exactor 
of  vengeance,  but  as  a  Saviour  and  a  Forgiver  of  sins. 
And  in  proportion  as  we  keep  a  firm  grasp  on  this  truth 
— which  Luther  said  it  is  so  easy  to  preach,  and  so  hard  to 
hold,  when  the  enemy  assails  the  soul  with  his  old  lie — ■ 
shall  we  be  kept  from  all  gloomy  parodies  of  the  true 
religion,  and  enabled  to  walk  in  light  and  liberty.  The 
only  true  message  from  heaven  is  a  gospel,  the  only  sate 
way  is  the  way  of  peace.  Nothing  but  the  full  convic- 
tion of  this  free  love  of  God,  giving  "  His  Son,"  "  Him- 
self," for  us,  will  ever  make  us  faithful  servants,  contented 


214  KEDIMTAL  RELIGION. 

sufferers,  and  cheerful  givers.  Nothing  but  this  is  the 
antidote  to  selfishness,  and  the  secret  of  a  life  of  com- 
munion with  God.  Nothing  but  this  will  make  our 
prayers  and  praises  what  the  services  of  the  temple 
where  the  Son  of  Grod  is  the  High  Priest  should  be ;  no 
longer  the  agonising  cry  of  doubt,  or  solitary  "  spiritual 
exercises,"  or  the  complacent  self-congratulations  of  the 
Pharisee,  but  the  submissive  asking  from  a  Father  of 
blessings  He  delights  to  give,  the  joyful  lifting  up  of 
hearts,  whose  praises,  offered  in  Him  who  is  their  Source 
and  Theme,  are  fragrant  incense  in  heaven. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

No  mere  improvement  in  correctness  of  doctrine  could 
have  stirred  the  heart  of  Europe  as  the  Reformation  did. 
The  assertion  of  the  " right  of  private  judgment"  might 
have  shattered  Christendom  with  a  war  of  independence, 
but  could  not  have  brought  peace  to  one  heart.  Had  not 
the  Serpent  asserted  it  long  ago  in  Eden  ?  The  clearest 
statements  of  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  could 
not  in  themselves  have  swept  away  all  the  barriers  super- 
stition had  been  building  up  for  centuries  between  man 
and  God.  Many  of  the  theologians  of  the  middle  ages 
seem  to  have  understood  that  doctrine.  The  Reforma- 
tion was  not  the  mere  statement  of  a  positive  dogma, 
still  less  was  it  the  mere  assertion  of  a  negative  right ;  it 
was  the  revealing  of  a  Person,  it  was  the  unveiling  of  a 
heart.  It  was  the  fresh  revelation  through  the  Bible  to 
the  heart  of  one  man,  and  through  him  to  the  hearts  of 
thousands,  that  "  God  is  love,"  and  "  hath  so  loved  the 
world,"  that  a  heart  of  infinite  love  embraces  us  on  every 
side,  and  rules  in  heaven.  It  was  the  fresh  declaration 
to  sinful  men  that  the  terrible  reality  of  sin,  which 
forms  the  barrier  between  the  sinner  and  the  Holy  One, 
has  been  swept  away  by  the  sacrifice  God  Himself  has 


216  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

provided ;  not  the  offering  of  man,  but  "  the  Lamb  of 
God,  who  takes  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  the  Son  of 
God  who  reveals  the  Father. 

Before  this  gospel  all  the  systems  of  human  priesthood 
and  saintly  intercession,  indulgences,  meritorious  self- 
torture,  fell  in  pieces,  not  like  a  fortress  painfully  battered 
down,  but  like  dreams  when  daylight  comes,  like  a  mis- 
understanding between  friends  who  have  been  slandered 
to  one  another,  in  a  minute's  interview.  Purchased  indul- 
gences to  defend  us  from  the  anger  of  a  Father ;  men, 
strangers  to  us,  to  intercede  with  Him  who  beseeches  us 
to  be  reconciled  ;  painful  penances  to  wring  forgiveness 
of  sins  from  Him  who  died  that  we  might  be  justly  for- 
given ; — all  these  fade  into  nothingness  before  that  won- 
drous message  of  love. 

One  perusal  of  Luther's  "  Commentary  on  the  Epistle 
to  the  Galatians,"  with  all  its  exaggerations  and  its  pas- 
sionate vehemence,  may  give  us  a  more  true  and  living 
idea  of  what  the  Reformation  was,  than  libraries  of 
histories  of  its  causes  and  disquisitions  about  its  effects. 

"  Christ's  victory,"  he  writes,  "  is  the  overcoming  of  the 
law,  of  sin,  our  flesh,  the  world,  the  devil,  death,  hell, 
and  all  evils;  and  this  victory  He  hath  given  unto  us," 
"  Although,  then,  that  these  tyrants  and  these  enemies 
of  ours  do  accuse  us  and  make  us  afraid,  yet  can  they  not 
drive  us  to  despair,  nor  condemn  us,  for  Christ,  whom 
God  the  Father  hath  raised  from  the  dead,  is  our  right- 
eousness and  victory." 

Again,  on  the  words,  "  Who  hath  given  Himself  for 
our  sins,"  he  writes  (referring  to  the  efforts  of  Satan  to 
drive   us  to  despair   on  account  of  our  sins),    "  Against 


THE  REFORMATION.  217 

this  temptation  we  urge  these  words  of  the  Apostle, 
in  the  which  he  gives  a  very  good  and  true  definition 
of  Christ  in  this  manner,  '  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God  and 
of  the  Virgin,  delivered  and  put  to  death  for  our  sins.' 
Here,  if  the  devil  urge  any  other  definition  of  Christ,  say 
thou,  The  definition  and  the  thing  defined  are  false.  I 
speak  not  this  without  cause,  for  I  know  what  urgeth  me 
to  be  so  earnest,  that  we  should  learn  to  define  Christ 
out  of  the  words  of  Paul.  For,  indeed,  Christ  is  no  cruel 
Exactor,  but  a  Forgiver  of  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 
Wherefore,  if  thou  be  a  sinner,  as  indeed  we  all  are,  set 
not  Christ  down  upon  the  rainbow  as  a  Judge,  lest  thou 
shouldst  be  terrified  and  despair  of  His  mercy,  but  take 
hold  of  this  true  definition,  namely,  that  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God  and  of  the  Virgin,  is  a  Person,  not  that  tcrrifieth, 
not  that  afflicteth,  not  that  condemneth  us  of  sin,  not 
that  demandeth  of  us  an  account  for  our  life  evil  passed, 
but  hath  given  Himself  for  our  sins,  and  with  one  obla- 
tion hath  put  away  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  hath 
fastened  them  upon  the  Cross,  and  put  them  clean  out  by 
Himself."  "  Hold  this  fast,  and  suffer  not  thyself  by  any 
means  to  be  drawn  away  from  this  most  sweet  d<  fruition 
of  Christ,  which  rcjoiceth  even  the  very  angels  in  heaven, 
that  is  to  say,  that  Christ,  according  to  the  true  definition, 
is  no  Moses,  no  lav^i/jr,  £20  t^sni  but  a  Mediator  for 
sins — a  free  Giver  of  grace,  righteousness,  and  life/' 

And  again,  "  Thus  I  define  Him  rightly  and  take  hold 
of  the  true  Christ,  and  possess  Him  indeed.  And  here 
I  let  pass  all  curious  speculations  touching  the  Divine 
Majesty,  and  stay  myself  in  the  humanity  of  Christ,  and 
so  I  learn  truly  to  know  the  will  of  Crod.      Here  then  is  no 


218  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

fear,  but  altogether  sweetness,  joy,  and  peace  of  conscience. 
And  herewithal  there  is  a  light  opened,  which  sheweth 
me  the  true  knowledge  of  God,  of  myself,  of  all  creatures, 
and  of  all  the  iniquity  of  the  devil's  kingdom." 

Was  not  this  the  secret  of  Luther's  Reformation  ?  It 
was  the  true  definition  of  Christ,  the  fresh  revealing  of 
His  glorious  person.  It  was  no  mere  statement  that  the 
proceedings  in  the  court  of  heaven  are  conducted  on  such 
and  such  principles  ;  it  was  the  declaration  that  it  is  the 
devil  and  not  God  who  is  against  us,  that  we  sinners, 
assailed  and  ensnared  as  we  are  by  a  real  and  personal 
enemy,  have  a  personal  and  most  loving  friend  in  God 
Himself,  who  became  man  to  seek  us  lost,  and  died  to 
save  us  perishing.  It  was  this  gospel  which  stirred  the 
heart  of  Christendom  then,  and  gave  peace  to  bewildered 
John  Bunyan  (when  he  read  it  in  Luther's  own  words)  a 
hundred  years  afterwards,  and  can  set  us  free  to-day; 
fresh,  loving  words,  eternally  new,  fresh  as  when  they  were 
spoken  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  to  the  publicans  and 
sinners  of  those  days. 

Again,  Luther  wrote,  "  Wherefore  the  law  doth  nothing 
but  utter  sin,  terrify  and  humble,  and  by  this  means  pre- 
pare th  us  for  justification  and  draweth  us  to  Christ.  For 
God  hath  revealed  unto  us  by  His  Word  that  He  will  be 
unto  us  a  merciful  Father,  and  without  our  deserts  (seeing 
we  can  deserve  nothing)  will  freely  give  unto  us  remission 
of  sins,  righteousness,  and  life  everlasting,  for  Christ  His 
Son's  sake.  For  God  giveth  His  gifts  freely  unto  all 
men,  and  that  is  the  praise  and  glory  of  His  Divinity." 

Again,  "  Christ,  then,  is  no  Moses,  no  exactor,  no  giver 
of  laws,  but  a  Giver  of  grace,  a  Saviour,  and  One  that  is 


LUTHER  ON  THE  GALATIAXS.  219 

full  of  mercy;  briefly,  He  is  nothing  else  but  infinite 
mercy  and  goodness,  freely  given,  and  bountifully  giving 
unto  us.  And  thus  shall  you  paint  out  Christ  in  His 
right  colours.  If  you  suffer  Him  any  otherwise  to  be 
painted  out  unto  you,  when  temptation  and  trouble 
cometh  you  shall  soon  be  overthrown.  Now,  as  it  is  the 
greatest  knowledge  and  cunning  that  Christians  can  have 
thus  to  define  Christ,  so  of  all  things  it  is  the  hardest. 
For  I  myself,  even  in  this  great  light  of  the  gospel, 
wherein  I  have  been  so  long  exercised,  have  much  ado 
to  hold  this  definition  of  Christ  which  Paul  here  giveth  ; 
so  deeply  hath  the  doctrine  and  pestilent  opinion  that 
Christ  is  a  Lawgiver  entered  even  as  it  were  oil  in  my 
bones.  Ye  young  men,  therefore,  are  in  this  case  much 
more  happy  than  we  that  are  old.  For  ye  are  not  in- 
fected with  these  pernicious  errors,  wherein  I  have  been 
so  nursed  and  drowned  even  from  my  youth,  that,  at  the 
very  hearing  of  the  name  of  Christ,  my  heart  hath 
trembled  and  quaked  for  fear  ;  for  I  was  persuaded  that 
He  was  a  severe  Judge.  Wherefore,  it  is  to  me  a  double 
travail  and  trouble  to  correct  and  reform  this  evil  :  first, 
to  forget,  to  condemn,  and  to  resist  this  old-grounded  error 
that  Christ  is  a  Lawgiver  and  a  Judge,  for  it  always 
returneth  and  plucketh  me  back;  then  to  plant  in  my 
heart  a  new  and  a  time  persuasion  of  Christ  that  He  is  a 
Justifier  and  a  Saviour.  Ye,  I  say,  that  are  young  may 
learn  with  much  less  difficulty  to  know  Christ  purely  and 
sincerely,  if  ye  will.  Wherefore,  if  any  man  feel  himself 
oppressed  with  heaviness  and  anguish  of  heart,  he  must 
not  impute  it  unto  Christ,  although  it  come  under  the 
name  of  Christ,    but    unto   the    devil,  who  oftentimes 


220  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY, 

cometh  under  the  colour  of  Christ,  and  transformeth 
himself  into  an  angel  of  light.  Let  us  learn,  therefore, 
to  put  a  difference  between  Christ  and  a  lawgiver,  not 
only  in  word,  but  also  in  deed  and  in  practice  ;  that 
when  the  devil  comes  under  the  shadow  of  Christ,  and 
shall  go  about  to  trouble  us  under  His  name,  we  may 
know  him  not  to  be  Christ,  but  a  very  fiend  indeed.  For 
Christ,  when  He  cometh,  is  nothing  else  but  joy  and 
sweetness  to  a  trembling  and  broken  heart,  as  here  Paul 
witnesseth,  who  setteth  Him  out  with  His  most  sweet 
and  comfortable  title  when  he  saith,  '  Which  loved  me, 
and  gave  Himself  for  me.'  Christ,  therefore,  in  very  deed 
is  a  lover  of  those  which  are  in  trouble  and  anguish,  in 
sin  and  death  ;  such  a  lover  as  gave  Himself  for  us,  who 
is  also  our  High  Priest,  that  is  to  say,  a  Mediator  between 
God  and  us  miserable  and  wretched  sinners."  Again, 
"  I  am  covered  under  the  shadow  of  Christ's  wings,  as  is 
the  chicken  under  the  wing  of  the  hen,  and  dwell,  with- 
out all  fear,  under  that  most  ample  heaven  of  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins."  Again,  "  Feeling  Thy  terrors,  O  Lord,  I 
plunge  my  conscience  in  the  wounds,  blood,  death,  resur- 
rection, and  victory  of  my  Saviour,  Christ.  Beside  Him 
I  will  see  nothing,  I  will  hear  nothing." 

These  extracts  are  given  thus  at  length  as  enfolding 
the  Reformation.  Such  books  have  the  essence  of  a  life 
pressed  into  them,  and  it  was  from  such  a  fountain  that 
the  rich  streams  of  G erman  hymns  flowed.  It  was  morning 
again  in  Germany,  and,  to  welcome  such  a  morning,  it  was 
no  wonder  that  there  poured  forth  such  a  chorus  of  song. 

The  hymn  literature  of  Germany  is  too  rich  to  be  given 
an  idea  of  in  the  fragment  of  a  book,  and  many  admirable 


HYMNS  OF  THE  REFORMATION.  221 

translations  have  already  appeared,  to  which  the  reader 
may  easily  refer.  There  is,  besides,  a  peculiar  freshness 
and  purity,  an  unconscious  power  and  sublimity  in  these 
hymns,  which  make  their  translation  peculiarly  difficult. 
Simplicity  in  a  translation  is  apt  to  look  conscious,  and 
so  to  become  that  worst  of  affectations,  the  affectation  of 
simplicity.  A  very  few  illustrations,  therefore,  must 
suffice  for  this  volume,  with  a  brief  sketch  of  the  general 
character  of  the  hymns  and  their  writers. 

In  comparing  these  with  those  of  the  middle  ages,  the 
first  thing  that  strikes  us  is  the  far  greater  variety  in 
the  subjects  of  the  hymns  and  the  position  of  the  writers. 
Sacred  song  has  issued  again  from  the  narrow  walls  of 
the  cloister  to  the  workshop,  the  harvest-field,  and  the 
home.  There  are  hymns  for  various  family  joys  and 
family  sorrows,  hymns  for  toil  and  for  battle,  for  the  sick- 
bed and  the  wayside. 

Especially  numerous  are  those  which  express  trust  in 
God  in  trial  or  conflict,  which  speak  of  Him,  like  the  old 
Hebrew  psalms,  as  a  Rock,  a  Fortress,  and  a  Deliverer. 
Spiritual  songs  have  once  more  become  battle-songs.  The 
intricate  intertwinings  of  rhyme  and  the  lingering  ca- 
dences of  the  later  medieval  hymns  vanish,  and  the  inspi- 
riting decision  of  martial  music  rings  through  them  once 
more.  They  are  songs  to  march  to,  reviving  the  fainting 
strength  after  nmny  an  hour  of  weary  journeying ;  blasts 
of  the  priests'  trumpets,  before  which  many  a  stronghold 
has  fallen  ;  chants  of  trust  and  of  triumph,  which  must 
often  have  reverberated  from  the  very  gates  of  heaven 
as  they  accompanied  the  departing  spirit  thither,  and 
mingled  with  the  new  song  of  the  great  multitude  inside. 


222  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

The  hymns  of  Germany  have  been  her  true  national 
Liturgy.  In  England  the  worship  of  the  Reformed 
Church  was  linked  to  that  of  past  ages  by  the  prayer- 
book  ;  in  Germany  by  the  hymn-book.  The  music  and 
the  hymns  of  the  mediaeval  Church  were  not  separated 
by  so  definite  a  barrier  from  the  psalmody  of  the  German 
Evangelical  Churches  as  from  ours,  but  floated  on  into 
it,  the  old  blending  with  the  new.  The  miner's  son,  who 
in  his  school-days  had  carolled  for  bread  before  the  door 
of  the  burghers  of  Eisenach,  remembered  the  old  melodies 
when  the  hearts  of  his  people  were  looking  to  him  for 
the  "  bread  which  satisfieth,"  and  gave  forth  out  of  his 
treasure-house  things  new  and  old.  The  great  Reformer 
of  the  German  Church  was  also  her  first  great  singer. 
Luther  gave  the  German  people  their  hymn-book  as  well 
as  their  Bible.  He  brought  over  some  of  the  best  old 
hymns  into  the  new  worship,  not  word  by  word  in  the 
ferry-boat  of  a  literal  translation,  but  entire  and  living, 
like  Israel  through  the  Jordan,  when  the  priests'  feet,  bear- 
ing the  ark,  swept  back  the  waters. 

Yet,  as  in  his  theses  affixed  to  the  church-doors  at 
Wittenberg,  so  in  his  hymns,  Luther  seems  to  have  had 
no  plan  of  writing  for  a  nation,  but  simply  to  have  spoken 
out  the  irrepressible  emotions  and  overpowering  convic- 
tions of  his  own  heart,  come  of  it  what  might.  "  Here 
stand  I,  I  can  no  other ;  God  help  me,  Amen,"  breathes 
through  his  hymns  as  well  as  his  confession.  The  great 
battle-song  of  the  German  Church — his  "  Eine  feste  Burg  " 
— was  said  to  have  come  into  his  heart  on  his  way  to  the 
Diet  at  Worms.  Its  truths  were  certainly  there  then, 
whatever  antiquarian  research  may  prove  about  the  date 


Luther's  hymns.  223 

when  they  were  written  down.  "  Out  of  the  depths  I 
cry  to  Thee,"  he  sang  when  recovering  from  a  fainting- 
fit, brought  on  by  the  intensity  of  spiritual  conflict ;  and 
when  at  last  his  dead  body  was  borne  through  Halle,  on 
its  way  to  its  last  resting-place  at  Wittenberg,  his  country- 
men thronged  into  the  church  where  it  was  laid,  and, 
amidst  their  tears  and  sobs,  sung  the  hymn  beside  it. 
His  sweet  Christmas  hymn,  "Vom  Himmel  hocli  da 
komm  ich  her,"  was  written  for  his  little  son  Hans. 
"  The  poet  had  the  child's  heart  in  his  breast."  From 
the  old  Latin  psalmody  he  gave  a  free  rhymed  translation 
of  the  "Te  Deum"  and  several  of  the  Ambrosian  hymns. 
The  funeral  hymn,  "  Media  in  vita  in  morte  sumus,"  * 
composed  by  Notker,  a  monk  of  St  Gall,  a.d.  900  (the 
first  line  of  which  appears  in  our  burial-service),  lie 
poured  forth  anew  in  three  verses,  and  infused  into  it  a 
tone  of  confidence  and  hope  very  faintly  audible  in  the 
original. 

Just  as  the  first  recorded  hymn  of  the  Church  was  called 
forth  by  the  first  persecution,  when  the  place  was  shaken 
where  the  disciples  were  met,  and  they  were  all  "  filled 
with  the  Holy  Ghost,"  it  is  interesting  to  find  that 
Luther's  first  hymn  was  called  forth  by  the  death  of  two 
martyrs  of  Christ,  "  burnt  at  Brussels  by  the  Sophists." 

The  hymn  of  his,  of  which  a  translation  is  given  at 
the  close  of  this    chapter,    is   in  the   early    hymn-books 

*  This  hymn  may  be  thus  translated  : — ■ 

"  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death  ; 
What  helper  ■hall  we  seek  but  Thee,  O  Lord, 
Who  art  justly  incensed  against  our  sins! 
Holy  God,  Holy  Mighty  One,  Holy  and  Merciful  Saviour, 
Deliver  us  not  to  bitter  death  !  " 


22i  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

called  "  An  Evangelical  Hymn,  to  be  sung  before  or  after 
the  sermon  ;"  and  in  one  of  those  books,  "  An  Evangelical 
Song,  very  comforting  to  the  sinner."  In  the  original, 
every  verse  of  it  seems  at  once  to  tremble  with  tears  of 
joy,  and  to  ring  with  the  peal  of  victory. 

To  give  a  series  of  biographies  of  German  hymn- writers 
would  be  to  write  the  church  history  of  Germany.  To 
the  three  thousand  and  sixty-six  hymns  selected  in  the 
"  Liederschatz"  of  Albert  Knapp  is  appended  a  list  of  four 
hundred  writers,  with  brief  biographical  notices  of  each. 
It  is  this  multiplicity  of  hymn-writers  which,  in  regard- 
ing hymns  as  the  voice  of  Christian  life,  gives  its  great 
interest  to  German  hymnology.  The  German  hymn- 
book  is  no  mere  series  of  metrical  compositions,  compiled 
by  a  few  orthodox  divines  ;  nor  is  it  a  collection  of  the 
religious  poems  of  a  few  poets.  It  is  the  utterance  of  the 
heart  of  the  German  Church,  of  those  whom  faith  in  Him 
who  is  invisible  has  made  singers.  It  is  emphatically  a 
fragment  of  the  great  song  of  the  Church  universal.  For 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  hymns,  since  Mary  the 
mother  of  Jesus  sang  her  song  of  joy,  the  names  of  women 
appear  among  the  singers.  Louisa  Henrietta,  born  Prin- 
cess of  Orange,  wife  of  the  Great  Elector,  Frederick 
William  of  Brandenburg,  poured  oat  her  hope  and  trust 
in  a  Resurrection  Hjmn,  which,  as  a  rock  of  faith,  stands 
beside  the  hymns  of  Luther  himself,  or  Paul  Gerhard. 
During  the  two  hundred  years  which  have  elapsed  since 
the  Christian  princess  breathed  her  heart  into  those  verses, 
how  many  souls  have  been  breathed  out  to  God  with  its 
words  falling  from  the  dying  lips!  A  translation  is 
attempted  in  this  volume. 


GERMAN  HYMN-WRITEIIS.  225 

In  the  biographical  list  of  writers  given  by  Albert 
Knap}),  many  names  occur  in  strange  juxtaposition.  Re- 
formed and  Lutheran  are  there,  side  by  side,  singing  parts 
of  the  same  song;  those  who  suffered  for  Lutheran  ism, 
and  those  who  suffered  for  Calvinism,  and  also  those  who 
contended  for  both — though,  probably,  more  of  the  sufferers 
than  the  combatants.  Too  often  the  choir  of  the  Church 
on  earth  is  built  like  the  chapels  of  prisons  on  the  sepa- 
rate system;  each  worshipper  is  walled  out  from  his 
neighbour.  In  these  hymn-books  (as  we  believe  it  will 
be  in  heaven)  the  barriers  are  broken  down,  and  we  see 
Luther  sitting  contentedly  beside  an  Anabaptist,  and  a 
Roman  Catholic  mystic,  such  as  Angelus,""  by  a  Reformed 
divine. 

In  the  list  referred  to  (at  the  end  of  Albert  Knapp's 
"Liederschatz"),  between  the  names  of  the  Electress 
Louisa  Henrietta  and  the  Countess  Ludamiilia  Elizabeth 
of  Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt,  occurs  that  of  Lowenstern, 
"a  saddler's  son;"  then  Dr  Martin  Luther;  a  little  below, 
Maria,  Queen  of  Hungary,  lielancthon,  and  Joachim 
Neander,  Calvinistic  preacher  at  Bremen. 

Among  the  names  otherwise  distinguished  are  those  of 
Franke,  founder  of  the  Orphan  House  at  Halle,  Arndt, 
Claudius,  the  Moravian  missionary,  Leonhard  Dober,  who 
offered  to  be  sold  as  a  slave  in  order  to  preach  to  the 
slaves  in  the  West  Indies,  Klopstock,  the  Krummachers, 
Lavater,  the  Margrave  Albert  of  Brandenburg,  Spener, 
Novalis,  De  la  Motte  Fouque,  many  noblemen  and 
ladies  of  rank,  and  the  great  Gustavus. 

*  Most  of  the  hymns  of  Angel  is  were,  however,  according  to  Albert 
Knapp,  wiitten  while  he  was  still  a  Protestant 


226  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

Among  the  most  distinguished  names  of  those  known 
chiefly  through  their  hymns  are  Paul  Gerhard,  Gerhard 
Tersteegen,  Angelus,  Schmolke,  and  Hiller.  Of  these 
Paul  Gerhard  is  held  to  be  the  greatest.  He  lived  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  in  Saxony  and  Prussia,  and  died  a.d. 
1676,  at  the  age  of  seventy,  after  a  life  of  many  outward 
trials  and  intense  inward  conflicts,  of  which  (Albert 
Ivnapp  writes)  one  of  his  contemporaries  said,  "  they 
would  naturally  have  caused  him  rather  to  cry  with  pain 
than  to  sing."  No  doubt  it  is  the  suppressed  cry  of  pain 
which  gives  the  peculiar  depth  to  his  song  of  victory.  One 
of  his  most  beautiful  hymns — "  Wake  up,  my  heart,  and 
sing" — was  composed  on  the  steps  of  the  altar  at  Llibben, 
after  a  night  of  anguish.  Every  line  of  it  breathes  the 
deepest  trust  and  peace.  Like  St  Paul,  he  comforted 
others  with  the  comfort  wherewith  he  himself  had  been 
comforted  of  God  !  Like  so  many  who  have  borne  the 
most  cheering  messages  to  the  Church,  the  consoler  had 
first  been  the  sufferer.  This  kind  of  song  is  only 
learned  on  the  battle-field.  You  feel  in  every  verse  of 
Gerhard's  that  his  is  proved  armour. 

The  hymns  of  Tersteegen,  one  of  which  is  the  well- 
known  "  Thou  hidden  love  of  God,"  are  more  quiet  and 
meditative.  He  lived,  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  a  life  of  deep,  still  communion  with  God,  choos- 
ing the  occupation  of  a  ribbon-maker  on  account  of  its 
tranquillity,  and,  from  his  humble  home,  shed  a  blessed 
influence  over  great  numbers  who  sought  his  counsel. 
His  light  seems  to  have  shone  and  been  diffused,  not  by 
express  effort,  but  simply  because  he  dwelt  himself  so 
much  in  the  light.     His  piety  was  the  fountain  of  his 


THREE  EPOCHS  OF  GERMAN  IIYMNOLOGY.  227 

poetry,  and  the  deep  beauty  of  his  heavenly  thoughts 
glows  through  the  rudeness  of  the  earthen  vessel  which 
holds  them.  He  died  at  Miihlheim  on  the  Ruhr,  a.d.  17G9, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-six. 

The  German  hymns  range  through  three  centuries,  but 
may  be  divided  into  three  principal  groups,  linked  to- 
gether by  many  scattered  compositions  which  intervene, 
and  seem  to  carry  on  the  one  unbroken  song.  These 
groups  would  naturally  concentrate  round  the  periods  of 
the  Reformation,  the  great  religious  struggle  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  and  the  revival  of  religion  in  the  days  of 
Franke  and  Zinzendorf  through  the  earlier  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

To  the  first  period  belong  about  twenty  hymn  writers, 
gathering  round  Luther  as  the  leader  of  the  choir.  In 
our  English  hymn-books  we  have  not  one  composition 
corresponding  with  this  earliest  burst  of  German  song. 
This  primary  formation,  with  its  massive  strength  and 
its  mountain  ranges,  upheaved  by  the  great  inward  fire 
of  the  Reformation,  is  with  us  altogether  wanting.  And 
the  deficiency  is  significant.  The  Reformation  reached 
our  country  at  first  only  in  vibrations  from  the  great 
central  movement  in  Saxony.  Before  the  evangelical 
faith  had  struck  root  in  the  heart  of  the  nation  Mary 
ascended  the  throne.  Then,  from  one  country  town  to 
another,  the  gospel  was  spread  from  the  stakes  of  the 
few  who  were  ready  to  die  for  it.  Our  martyrology  pre- 
ceded our  hymn-book.  During  Elizabeth's  reign  the 
newly-recovered  Bible,  with  its  inspired  psalms  and 
hymns,  and  the  old  Prayer-book,  in  which  Collect  and 
Te  Deum   now  shone  forth  again  disencumbered  of  the 


228  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

errors  which  had  hidden  them,  and,  unveiled  from  their 
foreign  disguise,  seemed  enough  for  the  wants  of  the 
people.  And  thus  our  Protestant  hymn  literature  is  at 
least  a  century  less  ancient  than  that  of  Germany. 

The  next  great  group  of  German  hymns  may  be 
gathered  around  Paul  Gerhard,  and  includes  the  period  of 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  when  Germany  was  torn  asunder 
not  only  by  the  great  religious  war  between  Gustavus 
Adolphus  and  the  Emperor,  but  by  bitter  internal  dissen- 
sions between  Lutheran  and  Calvinist, — devastated  by  the 
fierce  and  lawless  soldiery  of  Tilly  and  Wallenstein,  and 
the  famine  and  pestilence  which  followed,  like  vultures,  in 
their  train.  It  was  a  time  of  almost  unparalleled  misery 
for  Germany,  and  was  also  her  richest  harvest-time 
for  sacred  song.  In  number,  the  known  hymn  writers  of 
the  seventeenth  century  were  more  than  a  hundred;  a  list 
which,  allowing  for  the  perspective  of  time,  may  be  consi- 
derably larger  than  the  hundred  and  sixty  of  the  succeed- 
ing century.  The  distance  of  two  centuries  gradually 
drops  below  the  horizon  all  but  the  higher  summits  of  the 
range,  so  that  the  hundred  may  probably  represent  twice 
the  number. 

Amidst  wasted  lands  and  bloody  battle-fields,  and 
from  homes  smitten  by  worse  desolations,  the  song  of 
faith  and  hope  rose  steadily  up  to  God,  in  tones  which 
only  grew  deeper  as  everything  on  earth  grew  darker. 
To  this  century  belong  the  names  of  Angelus  and  Paul 
Gerhard,  the  David  of  the  German  psalter. 

Corresponding  to  this  group,  we  have  in  England  the 
names  of  George  Herbert,  Bichard  Baxter,  and  Bishop 


MORAVIAN  HYMNS.  220 

Through  the    latter  half  of   the  seventeenth  and  the 
commencement  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Spener  began, 

amidst  much  opposition,  his  collegia  pietatis,  or  meetings 
of  Christians  for  reading  the  Scriptures  and  prayer.  Re 
wrote  many  hymns;  and  after  him  followed  Jacob  Franke, 
that  man  of  faith  who,  without  pecuniary  resources  of 
his  own,  built  the  Orphan  House  of  Halie,  and  was  the 
source  of  spiritual  blessings  to  so  many.  Then  came 
Count  Zinzendorf,  his  young  heart  glowing  with  love  to 
Christ,  seating  apart  in  his  estate,  near  Dresden,  a  house 
of  refuge  (Herrnhut)  for  the  exiled  Protestants  of  JJo- 
hemia  and  Moravia  ;  with  all  the  wide-spread  harvest  of 
good  which  sprang  from  that  offering, — missions  in  the 
West  Indies  and  Greenland,  and  the  revival  of  the  mis- 
sionary spirit  everywhere. 

The  deep  love  to  his  Master  which  was  Count  ZinzLm- 
dorf's  one  characteristic  glows  in  his  hymns,  some  of 
which  were  improvised  by  him  in  the  public  services  of 
the  Church,  like  the  spiritual  songs  of  earlier  days.  The 
Moravian  brethren  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  music  and 
song  more  than  any  other  branch  of  the  Church,  and  no 
doubt  some  of  their  hymns  cannot  be  acquitted  from  the 
charge  of  childishness  and  sentimental  exaggeration;  but 
the  emotions  which  were  tempered  by  practical  activity 
such  as  theirs  must  continually  have  been  brought  back 
to  a  healthy  tone.  The  hearts  which  poured  forth  their 
love  on  earth  in  such  missions  as  the  Moravians  began 
and  patiently  carried  on,  could  not  but  have  poured  forth 
their  devotions  to  heaven  in  deep  and  genuine  praises. 
When  the  work  was  so  real,  the  song  which  cheered  it 
must,  in  the  main,  have  been  genuine  and  healthy;  and 


230  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

although  there  is  in  these  hymns  of  the  eighteenth  century 
more  of  a  subjective  character  than  in  the  two  earlier 
groups  (especially  than  in  that  of  the  Reformation),  more 
dwelling  on  the  feelings  of  the  worshipper,  yet  these  feel- 
ings seem  to  have  been  true  in  nature  and  object. 

During  this  period  Tersteegen  continued  to  sing  his 
tranquil,  contemplative  songs,  dwelling  apart  and  bathing 
his  spirit  in  the  depths  of  the  "  hidden  love  of  God." 
His  hymns,  however,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  belong  cha- 
racteristically to  any  period. 

Contemporary,  in  England,  with  this  band  of  singers, 
were  the  Wesleys,  Toplady,  Cowper,  Newton,  and  many 
others  connected  with  the  evangelical  revival  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

The  six  hymns  selected  for  translation  at  the  close  of 
this  chapter  are  taken  from  these  three  periods.  One  is 
by  Luther,  one  by  the  Electress  Louisa  Henrietta  of 
Brandenburg,  three  by  Paul  Gerhard,  and  one  by  Count 
Zinzendorf.  The  one  by  Luther  seems  (in  the  original) 
to  contain,  pressed  into  it,  the  history  of  a  lifetime,  to  be 
the  essence  of  that  "  Commentary  on  the  Galatians"  which 
contained,  as  it  were,  the  essence  of  Luther's  life.  The 
hymn  of  Paul  Gerhard  on  the  "  Passion,"  and  that  of  the 
Electress  on  the  "  Resurrection  of  the  Just,"  have  been 
chosen  partly  by  way  of  comparison  with  the  mediaeval 
hymns  on  the  same  subjects,  to  illustrate  the  greater  tone 
of  conscious  liberation  and  joy  in  evangelical  than  in 
mediaeval  devotion  ;  the  truer  response  in  the  Protestant 
hymns  to  the  words  of  our  Lord,  when  he  said,  "  These 
things  have  I  spoken  unto  you  that  my  joy  may  remain 
in  you,  and  that  your  joy  may  be  full." 


LUTHER.  231 

Gerhard's  hymn  on  "  God's  Providential  Care "  has 
been  selected  as  giving  .the  key-note  to  all  his  hymns,  and 
to  his  life  of  conflict  and  victory.  The  hymn  on  "  Heaven," 
by  Gerhard,*  is  given  on  account  of  its  deep  view  of  the 
happiness  of  heaven,  as  consisting  in  seeing  the  face  of 
God. 

And  finally,  the  hymn  by  Count  Zinzendorf  has  been 
chosen  because  (like  the  previous  hymn  of  Luther's,  and 
that  on  the  "  Passion,"  by  Paul  Gerhard)  it  traces  back 
our  redemption  to  the  deep  fountain  of  the  love  of  the 
Father,  and,  while  penetrated  with  the  absolute  need  of 
an  expiatory  sacrifice,  in  order  that  the  lost  may  be  saved, 
dwells  on  that  sacrifice  as  made  by  God  Himsel£ 

A  SONG  OF  PRAISE  FOR  THE  GREAT  BENEFITS  WHICH  GOD  HAS 
MANIFESTED  TO  US  IN  CHRIST,  t 

{Nun  freut  euch  lieben  Christen  g'mein) 

1. 
Dear  Christian  people,  all  rejoice, 

Each  soul  with  joy  upspringing; 
Pour  forth  one  song  with  heart  and  voice, 

With  love  and  gladness  singing. 
Give  thanks  to  God,  our  Lord  above, 
Thanks  for  His  miracle  of  love  ! 

Dearly  He  hath  redeem'd  us ! 

2. 

The  devil's  captive,  bound  I  lay, 
Lay  in  death's  chains  forlorn ; 

*  This  is  translated  from  a  hymn  in  Albert  Kiiapp's  collection,  caid  to 
be  "after  Gerhard." 
t  Luther's  own  title. 


232  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

My  sins  distress'd  me  night  and  day, 

The  sin  within  me  born  : 
I  could  not  do  the  thing  I  would, 
In  all  my  life  was  nothing  good, 

Sin  had  possess'd  me  wholly. 

3. 

My  good  works  could  no  comfort  shed, 
Worthless  must  they  be  rated ; 

My  free-will  to  all  good  was  dead, 
And  God's  just  judgments  hated. 

Me  of  all  hope  my  sins  bereft ; 

Nothing  but  death  to  me  was  left, 

And  death  was  hell's  dark  portal. 

4. 

Then  God  saw,  with  deep  pity  moved, 
My  grief  that  knew  no  measure ; 

Pitying  He  saw,  and  freely  loved, — 
To  save  me  was  His  pleasure. 

The  Father's  heart  to  me  was  stirr'd, 

He  saved  me  with  no  sovereign  word, — 
His  very  best  it  cost  Him. 

5. 

He  spoke  to  His  Beloved  Son, 
With  infinite  compassion : 
"Go  hence,  my  heart's  .most  precious  crown, 
Bo  to  the  lost  salvation. 
Death,  his  relentless  tyrant,  stay, 
And  bear  him  from  his  sins  away 
With  Thee  to  live  for  ever  !  " 

6. 

Willing  the  Son  took  that  behest : 
Born  of  a  maiden  mother, 


LUTHER. 

To  His  own  earth  He  came  a  guest, 

And  made 'Himself  my  brother. 
All  secretly  He  went  His  way, 
Veil'd  in  my  mortal  flesh  He  lay, 

And  thus  the  Foe  He  vanquished. 

7. 
He  said  to  me,  "Cling  close  to  Me, 

Thy  sorrows  now  are  ending; 
Freely  1  give  Myself  for  thee, 

Thy  life  with  Mine  defending. 
For  I  am  thine  and  thou  art  Mine, 
And  where  I  am  there  thou  shalt  shine, 
The  Foe  shall  never  reach  us. 


"  True,  he  will  shed  my  heart's  life-blood, 
And  torture  me  to  death  ; 
All  this  I  suffer  for  thy  good — 
This  hold  with  firmest  faith. 
Death  dieth  through  My  life  divine  ; 
I,  sinle  s,  bear  those  sins  of  thine  ; 
And  so  shalt  thou  be  rescued. 

9. 

"  I  rise  again  to  heaven  from  hence, 
High  to  My  Father  soaring, 
Thy  Master  there  to  be,  and  thence 

My  Spirit  on  thee  pouring  : 
In  every  grief  to  comfort  thee, 
And  teach  thee  more  and  more  of  Me, 
Into  all  truth  still  guiding. 

10. 
"  What  I  have  done  and  taught  on  earth, 
Do  thou,  and  teach,  none  dreading ; 


234:  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

That  so  God's  kingdom  may  go  forth, 
And  His  high  praise  be  spreading ; 
And  guard  thee  from  the  words  of  men, 
Lest  the  great  joy  be  lost  again : 

This  My  last  charge  I  leave  thee." 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 
BY  PAUL  GERHARD. 

(JSin  Lammlein,  geht  und  trdgt  die  Schuld.) 

1. 
A  Lamb  goes  uncomplaining  forth, 

The  guilt  of  all  men  bearing ; 
Laden  with  all  the  sin  of  earth, 

None  else  the  burden  sharing! 
Goes  patient  on,  grows  weak  and  faint, 
To  slaughter  led  without  complaint, 

That  spotless  life  to  offer  ; 
Bears  shame,  and  stripes,  and  wounds,  and  death, 
Anguish  and  mockery,  and  saith, 

"  Willing  all  this  I  suffer." 


That  Lamb  is  Lord  of  death  and  life, 

God  over  all  for  ever ; 
The  Father's  Son,  whom  to  that  strife 

Love  doth  for  us  deliver  ! 
O  mighty  Love  !  what  hast  Thou  done ! 
The  Father  offers  up  His  Son — 

The  Son  content  descendeth  ! 
O  Love,  O  Love  !  how  strong  art  Thou  ! 
In  shroud  and  grave  thou  lay'st  Him  low 

Whose  word  the  mountains  rendeth  ! 


PAUL  GEKIIAUD. 
3. 

Him  on  the  Cross,  O  Love,  thou  lay  est, 

Fast  to  that  torture  nailing, 
Him  as  a  spotless  Lamb  thou  slayest ; 

His  heart  and  flesh  are  failing — 
The  body  with  that  crimson  flood, 
That  precious  tide  of  noble  blood, 

The  heart  with  anguish  breaking ! 

0  Lamb  !  what  shall  I  render  Thee 
For  all  Thy  tender  love  to  me, 

Or  what  return  be  making  ? 

4. 

My  lifelong  days  would  I  still  Thee 

Be  steadfastly  beholding ; 
Thee  ever,  as  Thou  ever  me, 

With  loving  arms  enfolding. 
And  when  my  heart  grows  faint  and  chill, 
My  heart's  undying  Light,  oh  still 

Abide  unchanged  before  me  ! 
Myself  Thy  heritage  I  sign, 
Ransom'd  to  be  for  ever  Thine, 

My  only  hope  and  glory. 

6. 

1  of  Thy  majesty  and  grace 
Would  night  and  day  be  singing ; 

A  sacrifice  of  joy  and  praise 

Myself  to  Thee  still  bringing. 
My  stream  of  life  shall  flow  to  Thee, 
Its  steadfast  current  ceaselessly 

In  praise  to  Thee  outpouring ; 
And  all  the  good  Thou  dost  to  me 
I'll  treasure  in  my  memory, 

Deep  in  my  heart's  depths  storing ! 


236  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

6. 

Gate  of  my  heart,  fly  open  wide, 

Shrine  of  my  heart,  spread  forth  : 
The  Treasure  will  in  thee  abide, 

Greater  than  heaven  and  earth. 
Away  with  all  this  poor  world's  treasures, 
And  all  this  vain  world's  tasteless  pleasures, 

My  treasure  is  in  heaven  : 
For  I  have  found  true  riches  now ; 
My  treasure,  Christ,  my  Lord  art  Thou, 

Thy  blood  so  freely  given  ! 

7. 
This  treasure  ever  I  employ, 

This  ever  aid  shall  yield  me ; 
In  sorrow  it  shall  be  my  joy, 

In  conflict  it  shall  shield  me. 
In  joy,  the  music  of  my  feast ; 
And  when  all  else  has  lost  its  zest, 

This  manna  still  shall  feed  me  ; 
In  thirst  my  drink,  in  want  my  food, 
My  company  in  solitude, 

To  comfort  and  to  lead  me ! 

8. 

Death's  poison  cannot  harm  me  now, 

Thy  blood  new  life  bestowing  ; 
My  shadow  from  the  heat  art  Thou, 

When  the  noontide  is  glowing. 
And  when  by  inward  grief  opprest, 
My  aching  heart  in  Thee  shall  rest, 

As  a  tired  head  on  the  pillow. 
Should  storms  of  persecution  toss, 
Firm  anchor'd  by  Thy  saving  Cross, 

My  bark  rests  on  the  billow ! 


THE  ELECTRESS  OF  BRANDENBURG.  237 

9. 

And  when  at  last  Thou  leadest  me 

Into  Thy  joy  and  light, 
Thy  blood  shall  clothe  me  royally, 

Making  my  garments  white  ; 
Shall  place  upon  my  head  the  crown, 
Shall  lead  me  to  the  Father's  throne, 

And  raiment  fit  provide  me ; 
Till  I,  by  Him  to  Thee  betrothed, 
By  Thee  in  bridal  costume  clothed, 

Stand  as  a  bride  beside  Thee ! 


ON  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  JUST. 
BY  THE  ELECTRESS  LOUISA  HENRIETTA  OF  BRANDENBURG. 

(Jesus  meine  Zuversicht.) 

1. 

Jesus,  my  eternal  trust, 

And  my  Saviour,  ever  liveth : 

This  I  know ;  and  deep  and  just 
Is  the  peace  this  knowledge  giveth, 

Though  death's  lingering  night  may  start 

Many  a  question  in  my  heart. 

2. 

Jesus  lives  eternally ; 

I  shall  also  live  in  Him, 
Where  my  Saviour  is  shall  be. 

What  can  make  this  bright  hope  dim  ? 
Will  the  Head  one  member  lose, 
Nor  through  each  its  life  diffuse  ? 

3. 

Hope's  strong  chain  around  me  bound, 
Still  shall  twine  my  Saviour  grasping ; 


238  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

And  my  hand  of  faith  be  found 

As  death  left  it,  Jesus  clasping : 
No  assault  the  foe  can  make, 
E'er  that  deathless  clasp  shall  break  ! 

4. 

I  am  flesh,  and  therefore  duly 
Dust  and  ashes  must  become  ; 

This  I  know,  but  know  as  truly, 
He  will  wake  me  from  the  tomb, 

That  with  Him,  whate'er  betide, 

I  may  evermore  abide ! 

5. 

God  Himself  in  that  blest  place, 
Shall  a  glorious  body  give  me ; 

I  shall  see  His  blissful  face, 
To  His  heav'ns  He  will  receive  me  : 

To  His  joyful  presence  raise, 

Ever  upon  Christ  to  gaze ! 


Then  these  eyes  my  Lord  shall  know, 
My  Eedeemer  and  my  Brother  ; 

In  His  love  my  soul  shall  glow, — 
I  myself,  and  not  another ! 

Then  from  this  rejoicing  heart, 

Every  weakness  shall  depart. 

7. 

What  is  weak  or  maim'd  below, 

There  shall  be  made  strong  and  free ; 

Earthly  is  the  seed  we  sow, 
Heavenly  shall  the  harvest  be  : 

Nature  here,  and  sin  ;  but  there, 

Spiritual  all  and  fair ! 


PAUL  GERHARD.  230 


Thrill,  my  mortal  frame,  with  gladness, 
Fear  not  though  thy  vigour  wane, 

Give  not  any  place  to  sadness, 
Die,  yet  Christ  shall  raise  again, 

When  shall  sound  the  trump  of  doom, 

Piercing,  rending,  every  tomb  ! 

9. 

Smile,  then,  that  cold  dark  grave  scorning, 
Smile  at  death  and  hell  together ; 

1  hrough  the  free  air  of  the  morning, 
To  your  Saviour  ye  shall  gather  ; 

All  infirmity  and  woe, 

'Neath  your  feet  then  lying  low. 

10. 
Only  raise  your  souls  above 

Pleasures  in  which  earth  delighteth ; 
Give  your  hearts  to  Him  in  love 

To  whom  death  so  soon  uniteth ; 
Thither  oft  in  spirit  flee 
Where  ye  would  for  ever  be. 

ON  THE  PROVIDENCE  OF  GOD. 
BY  PAUL  GERHARD. 

{Befiehl  du  deine  Wege.) 
Commit  thy  way  to  God, 

The  weight  which  makes  thee  faint ; 
Worlds  are  to  Him  no  load  ! — 

To  Him  breathe  thy  complaint. 
He  who  for  winds  and  clouds 

Maketh  a  pathway  free, 
Through  wastes,  or  hostile  crowds, 

Can  make  a  way  for  thee. 


S  0  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

Thou  must  in  Him  be  blest, 

Ere  bliss  can  be  secure; 
On  His  work  must  thou  rest, 

If  thy  work  shall  endure. 
To  anxious,  prying  thought, 

And  weary,  fretting  care, 
The  Highest  yieldeth  nought ; 

He  giveth  all  to  prayer  ! 

Father  !  Thy  faithful  love, 

Thy  mercy,  wise  and  mild, 
Sees  what  will  blessing  prove, 

Or  what  will  hurt  Thy  child. 
And  what  Thy  wise  foreseeing 

Doth  for  Thy  children  choose, 
Thou  bringest  into  being, 

Nor  sufferest  them  to  lose. 

All  means  always  possessing, 

Invincible  in  might ; 
Thy  doings  are  all  blessing, 

Thy  goings  are  all  light. 
Nothing  Thy  work  suspending, 

No  foe  can  make  Thee  pause, 
When  Thou  Thine  own  defending, 

Dost  undertake  their  cause. 

Though  all  the  devils  throng 

Thine  onward  course  to  stay, 
Thou  passes t  calm  along, 

Nor  swervest  from  Thy  way. 
What  Thou  hast  once  disposed 

And  order'd  in  Thy  strength, 
Whatever  powers  opposed, 

Must  reach  its  goal  at  length. 


PAUL  GERHARD.  241 

Hope  then,  though  woes  be  doubled, 

Hope  and  be  undismay'd  ; 
Let  not  thine  heart  be  troubled, 

Nor  let  it  be  afraid. 
This  prison  where  thou  art, 

Thy  God  will  break  it  soon, 
And  flood  with  light  thy  heart 

In  His  own  blessed  noon. 

Up,  up  !  the  day  is  breaking, 

Say  to  thy  cares,  Good  night ! 
Thy  troubles  from  thee  shaking, 

Like  dreams  in  day's  fresh  light. 
Thou  wearest  not  the  crown, 

Nor  the  best  course  canst  tell ; 
God  sitteth  on  the  throne, 

And  guideth  all  things  well. 

Trust  Him  to  govern,  then  ! 

No  king  can  rule  like  Him  ; 
How  wilt  thou  wonder  when 

Thine  eyes  no  more  are  dim  : 
To  see  these  paths  which  vex  thee, 

How  wise  they  were,  and  meet ; 
The  works  which  now  perplex  thee, 

How  beautiful,  complete  ! 

Faithful  the  love  thou  sharest, 

All,  all  is  well  with  thee  ; 
The  crown  from  hence  thou  bearest 

With  shouts  of  victory. 
In  thy  right  hand,  to-morrow, 

Thy  God  shall  place  the  p. alms; 
To  Him  who  chased  thy  sorrow 

How  glad  will  be  thy  psalms  ! 


242  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

THE  JOYS  OF  HEAVEN. 
AFTER  PAUL  GERHARD. 

(Ach  Jesus  wie  so  schdn.) 

O  Christ !  how  good  and  fair 
Will  be  my  portion,  where 
Thine  eyes  on  me  shall  rest, 
And  make  me  fully  blest, 
"When  from  this  narrow  earth 
To  Thee  I  shall  spring  forth ! 

What  joy,  unmix'd  and  full, 
Thou  Treasure  of  the  soul, 
When,  in  that  home  above, 
Thy  heart  speaks  out  its  love 
To  all  made  one  with  Thee — 
My  brothers,  Lord,  and  me ! 

What  glorious  light  will  shine 
Forth  from  Thy  face  Divine, 
Which,  in  that  life  untold, 
Then  first  I  shall  behold ! 
How  will  Thy  goodness  free 
Fill  me  with  ecstasy  ! 

Lips,  whence  such  words  have  stream'd  ! 
Eyes,  whence  such  pity  beam'd  ! 
Side,  wounded  once  for  me  ! 
All,  all  i  then  shall  see ! 
With  reverent  rapture  greet 
Thy  pierced  hands  and  feet ! 

Ah,  Jesus,  my  "  good  part ! " 
How  will  my  mind  and  heart 
Vibrate  with  rapture  through, 
And  all  my  soul  grow  new, 


COUNT  ZINZENDORP.  213 

When  Thou,  with  smiles  of  love, 
Openest  those  gates  above  ! 

"  Come;'  Thou  wilt  say,  "  blest  child  ! 
Taste  pleasures  undented, 
And  see  the  gifts,  how  fair, 
My  Father's  hands  prepare ; 
Pasture  thine  heart  for  ever 
In  joy  that  fadeth  never." 

0  thou  poor,  passing  earth  ! 
What  are  thy  treasures  worth 
Beside  those  heavenly  crowns 
And  more  than  golden  thrones 
Which  Christ  hath  treasured  there 
For  those  who  please  Him  here  ? 

This  is  the  angels'  land, 
Where  all  the  blessed  stand; 
Here  I  hear  nought  but  singing, 
See  all  with  gladness  springing; 
Here  is  no  cross,  no  sorrow, 
No  parting  on  the  morrow ! 

When  shall  that  joy  begin? 
When  wilt  Thou  call  me  in? 
Thou  knowest !  but  my  feet 
Press  onward  Thee  to  meet ; 
And  my  heart,  day  by  day, 
Bears  me  to  Thee  away. 

ON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD. 
COUNT  EIHZENDOBF. 

{Da  cicijcr  Abgrund  der  sellgcn  Liebe.) 
Thou  deep  abyss  of  blessed  Love. 
In  Jesus  Christ  to  us  unseal'd, 


244  THE  HYMNS  OF  GERMANY. 

Fire,  which  no  finite  heart  could  prove, 

Depths,  to  no  human  thought  reveal'd  ; 
Thou  lovest  sinners — lovest  me, 
Thou  blessest  those  who  cursed  Thee : 
0  great,  0  kind,  0  loving  One, 
What  worthless  creatures  shin'st  Thou  on  ! 

Thou  King  of  Light !  our  deepest  longing 

Is  shallow  to  Thy  depths  of  grace  ; 
Deep  are  the  woes  to  us  belonging, 
But  deeper  far  Thy  joy  to  bless. 
Teach  us  to  trust  the  Father's  love, 
Still  looking  to  the  Son  above  ; 
Blest  Spirit !  through  our  spirits  pour 
True  prayers  and  praises  evermore. 

Jesus  !  Thine  own  with  rich  grace  filling, 

Thy  mighty  blessing  on  us  shed, 
New  life  through  every  member  thrilling, 

Diffused  from  Thee,  the  living  Head  ; 
Shew  us  how  light  Thy  mild  yoke  is, 
And  how  from  self's  hard  yoke  it  frees. 
If  Thou  wilt  teach  Thy  household  so, 
The  works  the  Master's  hand  shall  show. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

SWEDISH  HYMNS. 

Long  after  the  southern  regions  of  modern  Europe 
emerge  into  the  sober  daylight  of  history,  the  twilight  of 
legend  lingers  over  the  North.  The  gigantic  forms  of  the 
old  Sagas  flit  about  in  the  gleam  of  the  northern  lights 
ages  after  the  chronicles  of  the  South  are  peopled  with  a 
race  of  solid  and  ordinary  men  and  women.  Four  cen- 
turies after  the  times  when  the  people  of  Milan  first  sang 
the  hymns  of  Ambrose,  nearly  three  centuries  after  Gre- 
gory the  Great  sent  Augustine  to  the  English,  a  hundred 
years  after  the  Venerable  Bede  passed  his  tranquil  life 
in  the  monastery  near  Wearmouth,  translating  the  New 
Testament  into  Anglo-Saxon,  and  chronicling  his  own 
times — in  Sweden  Christianity  was  carrying  on  its  first 
conflict  with  the  fierce  old  Scandinavian  heathenism. — 
Anschar,  "  the  Apostle  of  the  North,"  died  a.d.  835. 

Thus  Christendom  had  journeyed  eight  hundred  years 
from  the  apostolic  age  before  the  name  of  Christ  pene- 
trated into  Sweden.  After  seven  centuries  more,  Chris- 
tianity, for  the  first  time,  streamed  into  those  northern 
regions  fresh  from  the  lips  of  evangelists  and  apostles. 

The  Swedish  Reformation  seems  scarcely  to  have  been 
so  much  a  transplantation  from  Germany  as  a  natural 


246  Swedish  hymns. 

branch  of  Lutheran  Protestantism.  The  inward  work 
in  Sweden  appears  to  have  followed  the  outward.  The 
Bible  was  given  to  the  people  in  their  mother-tongue, 
and  the  Church  ceremonies  were  reformed  on  the  Lu- 
theran model,  and  so  the  nation  became  Lutheran,  and 
many  among  them  truly  evangelical.  The  Bible  was 
translated  from  the  German  Bible ;  the  hymn-book  was 
a  reflection  of  the  German  hymn-book,  but  by  degrees 
native  hymn- writers  arose.  The  glad  tidings  could  not 
fail  to  call  forth  the  new  song. 

The  whole  history  of  Sweden  appears  to  blossom  into 
its  full  and  characteristic  development  in  the  biography 
of  one  man.  It  should  never  be  forgotten  that  the  royal 
hero  of  Protestantism  was  a  Swede.  Swedish  chronicles, 
otherwise  so  isolated,  are  incorporated  as  a  central  por- 
tion of  European  history  around  the  persons  of  two 
Swedish  kings,  Gustavus  Adolphus  and  Charles  XII. 
The  self-sacrificing  Christian  hero,  and  the  selfish  mili- 
tary chief,  might  stand  as  among  the  most  strikingly 
contrasted  types  of  true  and  false  heroism. 

If  ever  a  man  subordinated  self  to  the  cause  he  con- 
tended for,  it  was  surely  the  Great  Gustavus.  And  he 
had  his  reward  in  kind.  The  life  he  so  unflinchingly 
offered  to  stem  the  returning  flood  of  Romanism  was 
accepted,  and  the  flood  was  stayed.  The  hero  died  at 
Lutzen,  and  the  faith  he  had  contended  for  held  its 
ground  in  Germany.  From  that  noble  heart,  in  which 
northern  strength  and  northern  tenderness,  the  lofty 
heroism  of  an  old  Viking,  and  the  lowly  heroism  of 
a  Christian  martyr,  were  so  wonderfully  blended,  one 
psalm  has  come  down  to  us.  Its  composition  was  charac- 
teristic.    The  brave  king  was  no  man  of  letters.     The 


GUSTAVUS  ADOLPIIUS.  247 

fire  of  faitli  which  burned  in  his  heart  was  more  wont  to 
fuse  the  iron  of  heroic  deeds  than  the  gold  of  beautiful 
words.  But  the  thoughts  were  in  his  heart  •  had  they 
not  inspired  him  in  march  and  battle-field  ?  So  he  told 
his  chaplain,  Dr  Jacob  Fabricius,  what  his  thoughts  were, 
and  the  chaplain  moulded  them  into  three  verses  of  a 
hymn,  and  the  simple-hearted  hero  took  them  ever  after- 
wards as  his  battle-song.  On  the  morning  of  his  last 
battle,  when  the  armies  of  Gustavus  and  Wallenstein  were 
drawn  up,  waiting  till  the  morning  mist  dispersed  to  com- 
mence the  attack,  the  king  commanded  Luther's  grand 
psalm,  "  Eine  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott,"  to  be  sung,  and 
then  that  hymn  of  his  own,  accompanied  by  the  drums 
and  trumpets  of  the  whole  army.  Immediately  after- 
wards the  mist  broke,  and  the  sunshine  burst  on  the  two 
armies.  For  a  moment  Gustavus  Adolphus  knelt  beside 
his  horse,  in  face  of  his  soldiers,  and  repeated  his  usual 
battle-prayer,  "  O  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  bless  our  arms, 
and  this  day's  battle,  for  the  glory  of  Thy  holy  name  ! " 
Then  passing  along  the  lines,  with  a  few  brief  words  of 
encouragement,  he  gave  the  battle-cry,  "God  with  us!" 
the  same  with  which  he  had  conquered  at  Leipzig.  Thus 
began  the  tiny  which  laid  him  low  amidst  the  thickest 
of  the  fight,  with  those  three  sentences  on  his  dying  lips, 
noble  and  Christian  as  any  that  ever  fell  from  the  lips  of 
dying  man  since  the  days  of  the  first  martyr  : — "  I  seal 
with  my  blood  the  liberty  and  religion  of  the  German 
nation  !" — "  My  God,  my  God  !" — and  the  last  that  were 
heard,  "  Alas  !  my  poor  queen  !"  * 

A  hymn  so  consecrated  has  a  value  beyond  that  of  any 
mere  words.     Whether  the  Swedish,  (from  which  the  fol- 
*  Hollings'  "  Life  of  Gustavus  Adolphus." 


2iS  Swedish  hymns. 

lowing  translation  is  made,)  or  the  German,  was  the  origi- 
nal, the  translator  does  not  know.  Probably  both  were 
original ;  but  that  in  the  mother-tongue  of  the  hero  him- 
self has  its  peculiar  interest. 

GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS'  BATTLE-SONG. 

{Forfar as  ej  du  lilla  hop,) 

Be  not  dismay'd,  thou  little  flock, 
Although  the  foe's  fierce  battle  shock, 

Loud  on  all  sides,  assail  thee. 
Though  o'er  thy  fall  they  laugh  secure, 
Their  triumph  cannot  long  endure ; 

Let  not  thy  courage  fail  thee. 

Thy  cause  is  God's — go  at  His  call, 
And  to  His  hand  commit  thy  all ; 

Fear  thou  no  ill  impending : 
His  Gideon  shall  arise  for  thee, 
God's  Word  and  people  manfully, 

In  God's  own  time,  defending. 

Our  hope  is  sure  in  Jesus'  might ; 
Against  themselves  the  godless  fight, 

Themselves,  not  us,  distressing  ; 
Shame  and  contempt  their  lot  shall  be  ; 
God  is  with  us,  with  Him  are  we : 

To  us  belongs  His  blessing. 

The  orphaned  army  and  nation  had  need,  indeed,  of 
such  words  to  sustain  them  for  the  loss  of  such  a  man  and 
such  a  captain — a  loss  inadequately  compensated  even  by 
the  utter  destruction  on  that  battle-field  of  the  imperial 
army.  But  his  cause  was  won,  and  Protestant  Germany 
was  saved,  not  by  her  armies  or  her  princes,  but  by  the 
beart  of  that  one  hero,  given  by  God. 


SPEGEL,  ARCHBISHOP  OF  UPSALA.  2A0 

Two  other  translations  .are  here  offered  from  Swedish 
hymns.  The  first  is  from  one  by  Spegel,  Archbishop  of 
Upsala.  He  was  born  A.D.  1645,  thirteen  years  after  the 
death  of  the  great  Gustavus,  and  died  a.d.  1714  ;  he  was 
thus  a  contemporary  of  Paul  Gerhard.  He  is  said  by  his 
countrymen  to  be  their  greatest  hymn- writer,  and  to  have 
accomplished  much  good  for  Sweden.  The  following  verses 
are  extracted  from  a  hymn  of  his,  which  is  a  paraphrase 
of  part  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount. 

"  CONSIDER  THE  LILIES  " 

(Oss  Christna  bar  tro  och  besinna.) 
We,  Christians,  should  steadfastly  ponder 

What  Christ  hath  so  graciously  taught ; 
For  He,  who  would  have  us  His  freemen, 

Would  see  us  retain  in  our  thought 
How  little  things  earthly  are  worth, 
Lest  those  who  heap  treasures  on  earth 

The  heavenly  prize  leave  unsought. 

All  nature  a  sermon  may  preach  thee ; 

The  birds  sing  thy  murmurs  away, — 
The  birds  which,  nor  sowing  nor  reaping, 

God  fails  not  to  feed  day  by  day  ; 
And  He,  who  these  creatures  doth  cherish, 
Will  He  fail  thee  and  leave  thee  to  perish  ? 

Or  art  thou  not  better  than  they  ] 

The  lilies,  nor  toiling  nor  spinning, 
Their  clothing  how  gorgeous  and  fair ! 

What  tints  in  their  tiny  robes  woven, 
What  wondrous  devices  are  there  ! 

All  Solomon's  stores  could  not  render 

One  festival  robe  of  such  splendour 
As  the  flowers  have  for  everyday  wear. 


250  SWEDISH  HYMNS. 

God  gives  to  each  flower  its  rich  raiment, 
And  o'er  them  His  treasures  flings  free, 

Which  to-day  finds  so  fragrant  in  beauty, 
And  to-morrow  all  faded  shall  see. 

Thus  the  lilies  smile  shame  on  thy  care, 

And  the  happy  birds  sing  it  to  air  : 
Will  their  God  be  forgetful  of  thee  ? 

The  last  of  these  three  specimens  of  Swedish  sacred 
song  is  from  Franzen,  Bishop  of  Hernosand,  who  died 
A.D.  1818,  at  the  age  of  thirty-six. 

LOOKING  UNTO  JESUS. 

FRANZEN. 

(Jesum  haf  i  stdndigt  minne.) 
Jesus  in  thy  memory  keep, 

Wouldst  thou  be  God's  child  and  friend ; 
Jesus  in  thy  heart  shrined  deep, 

Still  thy  gaze  on  Jesus  bend. 
In  thy  toiling,  in  thy  resting, 
Look  to  Him  with  every  breath, 
Look  to  Jesus1  life  and  death. 

Look  to  Jesus,  till,  reviving, 

Faith  and  love  thy  life-springs  swell ; 

Strength  for  all  things  good  deriving 
From  Him  wrho  did  all  things  well ; 

Work,  as  He  did,  in  thy  season, 

Works  which  shall  not  fade  away, 

Work  while  it  is  call'd  to-day. 

Look  to  Jesus,  prayerful,  waking, 

When  thy  feet  on  roses  tread; 
Follow,  worldly  pomp  forsaking, 

With  thy  cross,  where  He  hath  led. 
Look  to  Jesus  in  temptation  ; 
Baffled  shall  the  tempter  flee, 
And  God's  angels  come  to  thee. 


FHANZLN.  251 

Look  to  Jesus,  when  dark  lowering 

Perils  thy  horizon  dim, 
By  that  band  in  terror  cowering, 

Calm  'midst  tempests,  look  on  Him. 
Trust  in  Him  who  still  rebuketh 
Wind  and  billow,  fire  and  flood  ; 
Forward !  brave  by  trusting  God. 

Look  to  Jesus  when  distressed, 

See  what  He,  the  Holy,  bore ; 
Is  thy  heart  with  conflict  pressed  ? 

Is  thy  soul  still  harass'd  sore  ? 
See  His  sweat  of  blood,  His  conflict, 
AVatch  His  agony  increase, 
Hear  His  prayer,  and  feel  His  peace  ! 

By  want's  fretting  thorns  surrounded, 
Does  long  pain  press  forth  thy  sighs  ? 

By  ingratitude  deep  wounded, 
Does  a  scornful  world  despise  1 

Friends  forsake  thee,  or  deny  thee  ? 

See  what  Jesus  must  endure, 

He  who  as  the  light  was  pure  ! 

Look  to  Jesus  still  to  shield  thee 
When  no  longer  thou  may'st  live  ; 

In  that  last  need  He  will  yield  thee 
Peace  the  world  can  never  give. 

Look  to  Him,  thy  head  low  bending ; 

He  who  finish'd  all  for  thee, 

Takes  thee,  then,  with  Him  to  be. 

"Were  it  within  the  scope  of  this  volume  to  give  selec- 
tions from  living  hymn-writers,  many  might  be  chosen 
from  Sweden,"  where  a  fresh  glow  of  Christian  life  is,  in 
these  days,  awakening  many  a  fresh  stream  of  song,  ill  a 
language  which  combines  the  homely  strength  of  the  Ger- 
man with  the  liquid  music  of  the  Italian. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

The  Reformed  Churches  of  France  and  French  Switzer- 
land seem  to  have  had  no  literature  corresponding  to  the 
hymns  of  Protestant  Germany.  The  names  connected 
with  mediaeval  hymn  literature,  on  the  other  hand,  are, 
as  has  been  observed,  chiefly  French.  Did  the  peculiar 
form  which  the  Reformation  took  in  France,  then,  tend 
to  quench  the  spirit  of  sacred  poetry,  or  what  other 
causes  brought  about  this  result  ? 

To  judge  rightly  on  this  subject,  we  must,  in  the  first 
place,  be  clear  what  we  mean  by  France,  since,  although 
the  French  monarchy  is  the  oldest  in  Europe,  the 
same  antiquity  can  scarcely  be  assigned  to  the  French 
nation  as  it  now  exists.  The  distracted  aggregation  of 
duchies  and  counties — Brittany,  Burgundy,  Aquitaine, 
Provence,  Languedoc — out  of  which  the  unity  of  modern 
France  was  gradually  compressed,  were  scarcely  more 
one  with  the  France  of  to-day  than  the  Greece  of  Mara- 
thon was  with  the  Byzantine  Empire.  The  southern 
regions  were  of  the  South,  Romance,  the  northern  were  of 
the  North,  Teutonic,  and  neither  were  French.  It 
is  remarkable  how  many  of  the  names  of  the  mediseval 
hymn-writers,    connected    by    birth    with    France,    are 


HYMNS  OF  THE  CALVINISTIC  CHURCHES.  253 

of  German  form.  Bernard,  with  his  brother  Gerard, 
Marbod,  Hildebert,  seem  more  the  natural  predeces- 
sors of  Martin  Luther  and  Paul  Gerhard  than  of  Cor- 
neille  or  Clement  Marot.  Lineally,  therefore,  the  German 
hymn  literature  may  be  said  to  be  descended  from  the 
mediaeval,  and  the  sacred  poetry,  which  seemed  native  to 
France,  may  perhaps  rather  be  looked  on  as  a  branch  of 
the  great  river  of  German  sacred  song. 

Yet  when  we  remember  that  the  same  absence  of  an 
evangelical  national  hymn  literature,  springing  up  spon- 
taneously as  a  natural  growtli  of  the  Reformation,  which 
characterises  the  Reformed  Churches  of  France  and 
French  Switzerland,  exists  also  in  the  sister  Church  of 
Scotland,  it  is  impossible  not  to  connect  this  fact  with 
the  similar  form  which  the  Reformation  took  in  all  these 
lands.  None  of  the  strictly  Calvinistic  communities  have 
a  hymn-book  dating  back  to  the  Reformation.  It  cannot 
surely  be  their  doctrine  which  caused  this;  many  of  the 
best  known  and  most  deeply  treasured  of  the  more  mo- 
dern hymns  of  Germany  and  England  have  been  written 
by  those  who  receive  the  doctrines  known  as  Calvinistic. 
Nor  can  it  proceed  from  any  peculiarity  of  race,  or  defi- 
ciency in  popular  love  of  music  and  song.  French  and 
Scotch  national  character  are  too  dissimilar  to  explain  the 
resemblance;  whilst  France  has  many  national  melodies 
and  songs,  and  Scotland  is  peculiarly  rich  in  both.  Is 
not  the  cause  then  simply  the  common  ideal  of  external 
ecclesiastical  forms  which  pervaded  all  the  Churches  re- 
formed on  the  Genevan  type?  The  intervening  chapters 
of  Church  history  were,  as  it  were,  folded  up,  as  too 
blotted  and  marred  for  truth  to  be  read  to  profit  in  them; 


254  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

and,  next  to  the  first  chapter  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
was  to  stand,  as  the  second  chapter,  the  history  of  the  Re- 
formed Churches.  Words  were  to  resume  their  original 
Bible  meaning  ;  nothing  was  to  be  received  that  could  not 
be  traced  back  to  the  Divine  hand.  Ecclesiastical  order 
was  to  be  such  as  St  Paul  had  established  or  had  found 
established ;  clearly  to  be  traced,  it  was  believed,  in  the 
Acts  and  Apostolical  Epistles.  And,  since  the  inspira- 
tion which  glowed  on  the  gifted  lips  of  apostolic  days 
existed  no  longer,  and  the  psalms  and  hymns  and  spiri- 
tual songs  in  which  St  Paul  had  delighted  formed  no 
part  of  the  New  Testament  canon,  recourse  must  be  had 
to  an  older  liturgy — inspired  throughout — at  once  most 
human  and  most  Divine.  Thus  the  Book  of  Psalms  be- 
came the  hymn-book  of  the  Reformed  Churches,  adapted 
to  grave  and  solemn  music,  in  metrical  translations  whose 
one  aim  and  glory  was  to  render  into  measure  which  could 
be  sung  the  very  words  of  the  old  Hebrew  Psalms.  By 
what  ingenious  transpositions  and  compressions  of  words 
and  syllables  this  has  been  accomplished,  in  the  case  of 
Scotland,  is  known  to  these  who  attend  the  Scotch  Pres- 
byterian services.  The  labour  must  have  been  conscien- 
tiously and  painfully  accomplished  ;  for  although  the  result 
may,  to  the  uninitiated,  bear  something  of  the  same  resem- 
blance to  poetry  as  the  fitting  of  fragments  of  Hebrew 
temple  and  Christian  church  into  the  walls  of  Jerusalem 
bears  to  architecture, — columns  reversed  and  mouldings 
disconnected, — yet  the  very  words  are  there,  and  the  use  I  <  > 
which  they  are  applied  is  most  sacred.  At  all  events,  the 
Scotch  Psalms  are  David's  Psalms,  and  not  modern  medi- 
tations on  them ;  and  with  all  the  sacred  associations  which 


HYMNS  OP  THE  PRAYER-BOOK.  255 

two  centuries  of  such  a  Church  history  as  that  of  Scot- 
laud  lias  gathered  round  the  song  of  to-day,  mingling  it 
with  echoes  from  mountain- gatherings,  and  martyrs'  pri- 
sons and  scaffolds,  and  joyful  deathbeds,  probably  no  hymn- 
book  could  ever  be  one-half  so  musical  or  poetical  to  Scotch 
hearts  as  those  strange,  rough  verses.  The  Paraphrases 
combined  with  them,  have  a  later  origin  and  another 
history,  and  do  not  alter  the  fact  that  David's  Psalter 
was  the  first  hymn-book  of  the  Reformed  or  Genevan 
Churches. 

England,  in  this  as  in  so  many  other  things,  takes  a 
middle  place  \ — in  some  measure  a  city  of  refuge,  where 
both  forms  of  the  Reformation  lived  tranquilly  side  by 
side,  but  also  a  border  land,  where  both  met  and  con- 
tended. 

The  Church  of  England  is,  in  form,  linked  to  the 
Mediaeval  Church  by  ties  far  stronger  and  more  numerous 
than  the  Lutheran  Churches  of  Germany.  The  thinking 
people  of  England  were,  after  the  Marian  exiles  returned 
from  the  Continent,  more  strongly  attracted  to  the  Pro- 
testantism of  Switzerland  and  Scotland  than  to  that 
of  Germany.  Thus,  between  Anglicanism  and  Puritan- 
ism it  happened  that,  until  the  last  century,  we  cannot  be 
said  to  have  had  any  national,  that  is,  any  people's  hymn- 
book  at  all.  Probably  no  person  or  community  ever  felt 
any  enthusiasm  either  for  Sternhold  and  Hopkins  or 
Tate  and  Brady;  and  although  some  stray  hymns  have 
crept  into  our  modern  hymn-books  from  earlier  days,  until 
the  eighteenth  century  we  had  no  People's  Hymn-l>ook  ; 
none,  that  is,  that  was  placed  on  cottage  tables  beside  the 
Bible,  and  sung  when  Christians  met,  and  chanted  beside 


256  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

the  grave.  The  Wesleys  seem  to  have  been  the  first  who 
gave  a  People's  Hymn-book  to  England ;  unless  that  of  Dr 
Watts  may  be  called  so,  published  about  the  beginning  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Not,  indeed,  that  England  was 
silent  those  two  hundred  years,  or  that  the  sacred  chain 
of  holy  song  was  ever  altogether  broken  in  our  country. 
We  had  our  "TeDeum"  and  "Magnificat," and  theEnglish 
Psalms  in  the  music  of  their  own  grand  and  touching  prose 
— a  melody  as  much  deeper  to  our  ears  than  any  me- 
trical manufacture  of  the  same,  as  the  morning  song  of  a 
thrush  is  than  the  notes  of  a  caged  bird  that  has  been  pain- 
fully taught  to  sing  two  or  three  tunes.  These  were  said 
in  village  church  and  quiet  home,  making  rich  melody 
in  the  heart,  and  pealed  through  the  old  cathedrals  to 
choral  chant,  in  a  language  "  understanded  of  all  the 
people."  The  Prayer-book,  with  all  its  musical  flow  of 
choice  words,  floating  down  on  its  clear  stream  of  pure 
English  the  song  and  prayer  of  the  true  Church  of  all 
ages,  and  the  English  Psalter, — this  was  the  hymn-book 
of  half  our  people ;  while  in  many  a  Puritan  congregation 
the  heroic  purposes  of  the  heart,  the  individuality  of 
Puritan  religion,  which  made  every  hymn  sung  as  by 
each  worshipper  alone  "  to  God,"  must  have  breathed 
poetry  into  any  verses,  and  fused  them,  by  inward  fire, 
into  a  music  no  external  polish  could  ever  give. 

Many  a  solitary  voice  also  poured  its  quiet  lay  apart, 
enough  to  make  a  joyous  chorus  to  those  heavenly  listeners 
who  heard  all  together.  Still  there  was  no  People's  Hymn- 
book;  no  hymns  which  the  babe  could  lisp  and  the  dying 
rejoice  in,  linking  together,  by  the  power  of  simple  truth 
the  cradle  and  th  e  deathbed.   The  language  of  sacred  poetry 


HYMNS  OF  THE  ELIZABETHAN  AGE.  257 

in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  was  too  subtle  and  fanciful 
ever  to  come  home  to  the  hearts  of  the  people.  In  spirit 
evangelical,  in  form  they  were  like  the  Latin  verses 
of  later  medieval  hymn-writers,  written  for  a  choice 
few  to  enjoy,  and  full  of  those  subtle  allusions,  half  the 
pleasure  of  which  consists  in  the  ingenuity  required  to 
understand  as  well  as  to  invent  them.  Such  hymns 
could  never  be  sung  by  little  children  at  Christmas  like 
Luther's,  or  become  a  nation's  battle-song,  or  sweetly 
distil  peace  at  moments  when  flesh  and  heart  failed, 
and  mental  effort  was  impossible — clinging  around  the 
soul,  as  it  were,  by  their  own  simple  power,  when  the 
soul  had  lost  its  power  to  cling  to  anything.  At 
such  times,  the  minds  which  framed  them  must  surely 
have  fallen  thankfully  back  on  the  old  psalms  and  Scrip- 
tural hymns,  however  rough  the  setting.  These  ingeni- 
ous poems  have  become  obsolete,  which  deeper  things 
cannot.  The  fashion  of  this  world  was  on  them,  and  they 
have  passed  away.  Whilst  the  name  of  Luther  is  even 
to  us  in  England  a  household  name,  and  the  hymns  of 
the  earliest  Reformers  are  reprinted  fresh  as  at  first  in 
the  latest  German  hymn-books,  how  many  among  us 
know  anything  of  the  names  of  Gascoigne,  Barnaby 
Barnes,  Michael  Drayton,  Henry  Lok,  William  Hunnis, 
or  Samuel  Rowlands,  who  wrote  sacred  poems  in  the  days 
of  Good  Queen  Bess  ?  Edmund  Spenser,  and  Sir  Philip 
Sydney,  are,  indeed,  familiar  names ;  but,  although  frag- 
ments of  Spenser's  high  and  sweet  meditations  may  find 
their  way  into  a  collection  of  sacred  poems,  they  are 
scarcely  hymns  for  general  use  ;  and,  although  Sir  Philip 
Sydney   and    Lady    Pembroke's    Psalter    contain    many 


258  ENGLISH  HYMN3. 

majestic  and  vigorous  versions,  it  was  never  a  people's 
Psalter.  The  rich  old  English,  and  the  deep  thought 
and  quaint  fancies  of  that  wonderful  period,  shine  out  in 
many  of  those  forgotten  pages ;  but  they  bear  witness 
to  the  piety  or  the  poetical  power  of  the  writer  rather 
than  to  the  faith  of  the  times.  Taken,  however,  as  they  are, 
they  have  their  deep  interest.  If  not  echoed  back,  like 
the  hymns  of  Luther  and  Gerhard,  by  the  hearts  of  thou- 
sands, they  are  at  least  parts  in  the  great  service  of  song, 
which  has  its  sweet  solitary  hymns,  sung  on  through  the 
night,  as  well  as  its  grand  choral  bursts  at  morning. 

At  last  the  strong  hand  of  Queen  Elizabeth  lay  power- 
less; and  through  the  reigns  of  the  Stuarts  England  passed 
on  to  the  Rebellion,  and  the  firm  rule  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 
The  reign  of  "  euphuism  "  died  out :  sacred  music  must 
cast  aside  the  fair  trappings  of  the  golden  age,  and  lay 
down  the  lyre,  and  chant  strains  preluded  by  trumpets, 
interrupted  by  cannon,  and  often  echoed  from  prisons  and 
scaffolds.  All  the  contrary  elements  in  the  English 
Church  and  State,  which  in  their  passive  condition  neu- 
tralised each  other,  sprang  into  activity  ;  every  difference 
became  a  dispute ;  the  electricity  which  in  calm  weather 
quickened  life,  exploded  in  thunder-storms.  Yet  from  both 
sides,  amidst  the  din,  the  old  psalm  flowed  on,  piercing 
with  its  music  all  the  clamour,  and  reaching  us  long  after 
the  echoes  of  the  storm  have  died  away.  George  Herbert, 
from  his  country  parsonage  ministering  to  the  poor,  and 
borne  to  his  grave  with  cathedral  chants  ;  blind  John 
Milton,  Secretary  of  the  Protector,  and  scorn  of  the  court 
of  the  Restoration  ;  Richard  Baxter,  true  pastor  of  the 
flock  of  Christ  at  Kidderminster,  so  basely  browbeaten 


WATTS  AND  DODDRIDGE.  259 

by  Judge  Jeffreys  ;  Bishop  Ken,  the  Nonjuror  ;  these  are 
the  voices  which  carry  on  the  song  of  peace  through  that 
time  of  strife. 

With  the  eighteenth  century,  however,  the  history  of 
English  hymn-books  must  begin.  The  two  earliest  names 
on  the  long  list  of  that  century  link  the  story  of  the 
faith  in  England,  in  an  interesting  way,  with  that  of  the 
persecuted  Protestants  on  the  Continent.  Dr  Watts, 
born  in  1674,  was  descended,  through  his  mother,  from  a 
Huguenot  family,  driven  from  France  by  the  persecutions 
in  the  early  part  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign.  And  Dr 
Doddridge,  doubtless,  in  his  childhood,  when  his  mother 
had  finished  the  Bible-lesson  from  the  pictured  Dutch 
tiles,  would  often  ask  for  the  story  of  her  father  Dr 
John  Baumann's  flight  from  Bohemia,  with  his  little 
store  of  money  bound  up  in  his  girdle,  and  Luther's 
German  Bible  for  all  his  heritage.  Traditions  of  other 
ancestral  wrongs  and  faithfulness  deepened  the  early 
piety  of  the  two  great  Nonconformist  hymn-writers ; 
the  pathetic  stories  of  those  patient  sufferings  for  con- 
science' sake,  which,  next  to  the  martyrdoms  of  Mary's 
time,  form  the  most  thrilling  chapter  in  the  history 
of  our  English  Protestantism, — stories  not  then  con- 
densed into  national  history,  but  which  the  sufferers 
themselves  yet  lived  to  tell  :  for  Dr  Watts'  mother 
also  had  her  tales  of  her  son's  own  infancy,  when  his 
father  lay  in  prison  for  his  convictions,  and  she  had  sate 
on  the  stones  by  his  prison  door  with  her  first-born  in 
her  arms.  There  had  been  other  reasons  besides  the 
dearth  of  writers  why  the  Puritan  congregations  could 
have  no  hymn-books.     They  had  to  choose  their  places  of 


260  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

meeting  in  secluded  corners,  to  set  watches  outside  the 
door,  and  let  their  prayers  and  praises  be  soft,  so  that  no 
enemy  might  hear  and  betray  them.  The  times  changed 
much  during  the  lifetime  of  those  two  men.  The  Stuarts 
were  finally  dethroned.  Dissenting  academies  began  to 
flourish,  and  the  heroic  age  of  Nonconformity  passed 
away.  When  at  length  Dr  Watts  died,  in  a  tranquil  old 
age,  at  Abney  Park,  in  1748,  and  was  buried  among  many 
of  his  persecuted  friends  and  predecessors  in  Bunhill 
Fields,  a  respectful  concourse  of  spectators  attended 
the  funeral.  And  Dr  Doddridge,  when,  at  fifty -one, 
consumption  had  laid  him  low,  on  his  deathbed  on  a 
foreign  shore,  where  only  his  wife  was  with  him,  minis- 
tering to  him  to  the  last,  was  followed  by  the  sympathy 
of  good  men  of  all  ecclesiastical  parties  in  his  native  land. 
It  is  interesting  to  know,  that  Dr  Watts'  hymn-book, 
which  the  dying  Dr  Doddridge  found  in  a  friend's  house  at 
Lisbon,  was  often  the  solace  of  his  last  days  of  suffering. 
The  lives  of  these  two  singers  were  alike  in  their  calm 
and  sunny  peacefulness.  Dr  Watts  lived  without  care 
under  the  hospitable  roof  of  Sir  Thomas  Abney,  combin- 
ing the  tranquillity  of  the  life  of  a  hermit  with  the 
cheerfulness  of  a  social  circle.  Dr  Doddridge  lived  sur- 
rounded by  his  affectionate  family,  and  amidst  his  pupils, 
in  a  comfortable  old  English  county-town  house  at 
Northampton.  Both  seemed  to  have  learned,  from  the 
traditions  of  persecution  in  their  families,  what  persecu- 
tion teaches  few — to  forbear.  They  did  what  good  they 
could  in  their  own  circles,  and  wrote  hymns,  which  all 
evangelical  English  Christians  unite  in  singing,  and 
which,  although  many   of  them   may  be   unworthy  of 


DH  DODDRIDGE  AND  BISHOP  KEN.  2G1 

others,  and  the  best  may  be  defective  in  literary  finish, 
yet  fulfil  the  great  mission  of  hymns,  being  lisped  by  in- 
fancy and  murmured  on  the  deathbed,  and  welcome  alike 
in  the  cottage  and  the  palace,  wherever  sorrow  melts  men 
to  prayer,  or  Christian  joy  awakens  them  to  praise. 

And  among  the  foretastes  of  better  things,  and  the 
illustration  of  the  true  essential  unity  of  all  the  living 
Church  of  Christ,  not  one  of  the  least  satisfactory  is  the 
quiet  combination,  at  the  end  of  many  of  our  Prayer- 
books,  of  the  hymns  of  the  Nonjuring  Bishop  Ken  and 
the  Nonconformist  Dr  Doddridge.  There  is  certainly 
no  small  pleasure  in  beholding  all  the  various  sections 
within  the  Church  of  England  unconsciously  unite  in 
praising  God  in  strains  which  first  flowed  from  minds  too 
far  apart  at  either  extreme  of  her  inclosure  to  be  included 
within  it.  If  it  is  true,  as  is  reported,  that  Bishop  Ken 
said  it  would  enhance  his  joy  in  heaven  to  listen  to  his 
Morning  and  Evening  Hymns  sung  by  the  faithful  on 
earth,  we  may  be  sure  that  pleasure  would  not  be  marred 
by  hearing  blended  with  them,  as  the  "  fair  white  cloth  " 
is  spread,  and  the  worshippers  prepare  to  celebrate  the 
"  exceeding  great  love  of  our  Master  and  only  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,"  the  hymn  of  the  Nonconformist  minister, 

"  My  God,  and  is  Thy  table  spread, 
And  doth  Thy  cup  with  love  o'erflow?" 

Serenely,  through  peaceful  times,  did  these  two  good  men, 
Doddridge  and  Watts,  pass  along  their  tranquil  course  to 
their  quiet  end,  evermore  to 

"  Bathe  the  weary  soul 
In  seas  of  heavenly  rest." 


2G2  ENGLISH  HYMNS 

Less  tranquil  days  followed,  and  very  different  was  the 
complexion  of  the  lives  of  the  writers  of  the  next  great 
English  People's  Hymn-book. 

In  the  first  years  of  the  century,  whilst  Dr  Doddridge, 
during  his  solitary  childhood,  was  learning  from  his 
mothers  lips,  in  their  house  in  London,  how  the  God 
who  led  Israel  through  the  wilderness  rescued  his  exiled 
grandfather  from  Bohemia  ;  whilst  the  first  edition  of  Dr 
Watts'  Hymn-book  was  being  eagerly  bought  up  in  a 
single  year,  John  and  Charles  Wesley  were  spending  their 
childhood  in  the  country  parsonage  at  Epworth  in  Lin- 
colnshire. *  The  old  Puritan  blood  ran  also  in  their 
veins ;  their  father's  grandfather  and  father  had  both  been 
ejected  ministers,  his  father  many  times  in  prison  on 
account  of  his  Nonconformity.  Their  mother's  father, 
Dr  Annesley,  was  also  one  of  the  original  Noncon- 
formists, a  man  of  whom  his  daughter  said,  that  for  forty 
years  his  deep  sense  of  peace  with  God  through  Christ 
had  never  been  broken,  and  who  died  murmuring  such 
words  as  these,  "  When  I  awake  up  in  Thy  likeness,  I 
shall  be  satisfied — satisfied  ! "  But  their  own  early  lean- 
ings were  to  the  opposite  of  Dissent.  They  looked  to 
Thomas  a  Kempis  as  a  guide,  rather  than  to  the  Puritan 
divines.  It  was  not  until  after  years  of  painful  toilings  to 
reach  and  please  God,  that  the  Wesley s  became  as  little 
children,  and  learned  that  God  had  first  loved  them,  had 
redeemed  them  by  the  blood  of  His  Son,  and  freely  ac- 
cepted them  in  Him.  But  when  they  were  taught  this 
liberating  truth   of  present  pardon   and    adoption,   and 

*  Jobn  Wesley  was  born  in  1703,  Dr  Doddridge  in  1702,  and  the  first 
edition  of  Dr  Watts'  H}  inns  appeared  and  was  sold  in  1709. 


THE  WESLEYS.  203 

found  that  the  Shepherd  of  the  sheep  is  also  the  Door  of 
the  fold,  and  came  straight  to  Him  and  proved  that  the 
Sun  of  the  heavenly  city  is  also  the  Sun  of  the  believing 
soul,  their  hearts  could  not  contain  the  joy.  The  peace 
of  God  came  to  them,  not  as  a  quiet  blessedness,  uncon- 
sciously flowing  into  their  hearts  through  a  mothers  lips, 
but  as  an  overwhelming  joy,  setting  them  free  from  a  hard 
bondage.  It  was  to  them  no  hereditary  possession,  which 
they  were  thankful  to  be  allowed  to  enjoy  in  tranquillity, 
and  which  they  would  gladly  share  with  any  who  wished 
and  asked  for  it ;  it  was  news,  good  news  direct  from 
heaven,  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  for  all,  which  all  must 
know.  And  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  England 
and  Ireland,  across  the  Atlantic  to  America,  the  brothers 
went  up  and  down  for  half  a  century  to  tell  it.  They 
were  pelted,  threatened,  mocked,  defamed.  They  were 
called  Jesuits,  Jacobites,  blasphemers,  and  fanatics. 
Houses  in  which  they  rested  were  besieged  and  unroofed. 
They  were  driven  from  a  church  dearer  to  them  than 
anything  but  the  souls  of  men  ;  one  of  the  most  orderly 
and  methodical  of  human  beings  was  forced  into  the  life 
of  an  itinerant  preacher.  But  the  good  news  spread  : 
riots  spread  it,  persecution  proclaimed  it.  The  death- 
sleep  of  Socinianism,  into  which  Churchmen  and  Dis- 
senters alike  were  falling,  was  broken ;  the  hearts  of 
thousands  were  awakened;  and  the  morning  hymn  of 
rejoicing  multitudes  went  up  to  that  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness which  had  arisen  with  healing  in  His  wings.  In 
one  place,  where  an  enraged  crowd  had  rushed  into  the 
house  where  John  Wesley  was  resting,  he  addressed  them 
with    such    affectionate    faithfulness    (appealing    to    the 


264  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

"  thirst"  which  lay  deep  in  their  hearts  below  their  op- 
position), that  the  disorderly  mob  became  a  peaceable  con- 
gregation, and  tears  of  penitence  streamed  over  the  faces 
of  the  ringleaders.  At  another  time,  the  magistrate  who 
came  to  prevent  Charles  Wesley  from  preaching,  was  him- 
self arrested  by  the  preacher's  words,  listened  to  the  end, 
and  went  away  with  a  humbled  and  softened  heart.  In 
almost  every  place  where  they  were  thus  assailed,  societies 
of  true  converts  sprang  up,  out  of  the  very  ranks  of  the 
persecutors.  It  was  out  of  lives  such  as  these  that  the 
Wesleyan  Hymn-book  was  distilled.  One  hymn  was  com- 
posed after  a  wonderful  escape  from  an  infuriated  mob ; 
another  after  a  deliverance  from  a  storm  at  sea ;  and  all 
in  the  intervals  of  a  life  of  incessant  toil.  The  pressure 
of  trial,  and  the  force  of  faith,  drew  many  a  vigorous 
hymn  from  John  Wesley  ;  but  it  was  Charles  Wesley  who 
— in  his  prime,  on  his  preaching  tours,  by  the  roadside, 
amidst  hostile  mobs  or  devout  congregations,  and  in  his 
old  age,  in  his  quiet  journey  ings  from  friend  to  friend — 
poured  forth  the  great  mass  of  the  Wesleyan  hymns. 
When  his  life  of  beneficence  and  courageous  conflict  was 
almost  over,  it  must  have  been  a  sight  to  call  forth  tears, 
as  well  as  smiles,  to  see  the  old  gentleman  (dressed  in 
winter  costume  even  in  the  height  of  summer)  dismount 
from  his  old  gray  pony,  and  leaving  it  in  the  little  garden 
before  his  friend's  house  in  the  City  Road,  enter  the 
parlour,  card  in  hand,  and  note  down  the  words  of 
some  sacred  song  which  had  been  chiming  through  his 
heart. 

Those  hymns  are  sung  now  in  collieries  and  copper- 
mines.    How  many  has  their  heavenly  music  strengthened 


COWPER  AND  NEWTON.  265 

to  meet  death  in  the  dark  coal-pit ;  on  how  many  dying 
hearts  have  they  come  back,  as  from  a  mother's  lips,  on 
the  battle-field ;  beside  how  many  deathbeds  have  they 
been  chanted  by  trembling  voices,  and  listened  to  with 
joy  unspeakable ;  how  many  have  they  supplied  with 
prayer  and  praise,  from  the  first  thrill  of  spiritual  fear  to 
the  last  rapture  of  heavenly  hope  !  They  echo  along  the 
Cornish  moors  as  the  corpse  of  the  Christian  miner  is 
borne  to  his  last  resting-place ;  they  cheer  with  heavenly 
messages  the  hard  bondage  of  slavery  ;  they  have  been 
the  first  words  of  thanksgiving  on  the  lips  of  the  liberated 
negro ;  they  have  given  courage  to  brave  men,  and 
patience  to  suffering  women ;  they  have  been  a  liturgy 
engraven  on  the  hearts  of  the  poor ;  they  have  borne  the 
name  of  Jesus  far  and  wide,  and  have  helped  to  write  it 
deep  on  countless  hearts.  And  England  is  no  more 
without  a  People's  Hymn-book. 

But  all  this  time,  whilst  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield 
were  evangelising  far  and  wide,  other  instruments  for  the 
great  choral  service  were  being  moulded  elsewhere. 

From  the  gentle  but  tortured  spirit  of  Cowper,  the  glad 
tidings  of  grace  and  redemption  drew,  in  the  intervals  of 
his  terrible  malady,  those  trembling  but  immortal  notes 
of  praise  which  are  more  pathetic  than  any  complainings; 
for  often  when  he  was  weeping  those  touching  words  on 
the  very  bosom  of  the  Father,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  they 
were  echoing  unheard  through  the  wastes  of  the  far 
country. 

"0  poets!   from  a  maniac's  tongue  was  pour'd  the  deathless 

singing ; 
O  Christians !  to  your  cross  of  hope  a  hopeless  hand  is  clinging; 


266  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

O  men !  this  man,  in  brotherhood  your  weary  paths  beguiling, 
Groan 'd  inly  while  he  taught  you  peace,  and  died  while  ye 
were  smiling."  * 

And  meanwhile,  John  Newton,  mate  of  the  slaver, 
guarded,  amidst  all  his  sins,  from  worse,  by  the  recollec- 
tion of  a  pious  mother,  and  that  pure  early  attachment  to 
Miss  Catlett  (afterwards  his  wife),  and  at  length  brought 
back  from  his  wanderings,  to  God  and  happiness,  was  re- 
ceiving his  training.  He  was  no  man  of  genius,  no  born 
poet  like  Cowper  \  yet  his  hymns  are  no  mere  rhymed 
sermons.  He  was  made  a  hymn-writer  by  the  depth  and 
freshness  of  his  religious  feelings ;  even  as  youth  or  pas- 
sionate emotion  can  waken  music  in  many  hearts  whose 
ordinary  language  is  a  sober,  colourless  prose.  His  com- 
mon speech  was  raised  into  song  by  the  glory  of  the  mes- 
sage he  had  to  tell,  and  his  own  joy  in  telling  it. 

Thus,  between  these  two  natures,  in  themselves  so 
diverse,  was  composed,  in  the  eight  years  from  1771  to 
1779,  the  "Olney  Hymn-Book ; "  a  river  which  welled 
from  very  deep  sources,  and  broke  through  many  an  ada- 
mantine barrier  to  "make  glad  the  city  of  God." 

The  hymn,  "  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way,"  came  into 
Cowper's  heart  during  a  solitary  walk  in  the  fields,  when 
he  was  tortured  by  an  apprehension  of  returning  mad- 
ness. It  was  the  last  he  ever  composed  for  the  Olney  col- 
lection. The  words  which  have  cheered  and  strengthened 
so  many  were  wrung  from  an  agonised  heart.  The  veil 
was  not  withdrawn  from  his  spirit  on  earth;  but  long, 
long  since,  wakening  up  from  his   "life's  long  fever"  to 

*  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 


P0ET3  OF   QUEEN  ELIZABETHS  TIME.  26i 

feel  "those  eyes"  of  Infinite  Love  resting  on  him,  he  has 
learned  the  blessed  meaning  of  his  own  words — 
u  God  is  His  own  interpreter, 
And  He  will  make  it  plain." 

Countless  other  voices  followed  these,  swelling  the  one 
chorus  of  praise.  They  were  not,  indeed,  always  con- 
sciously united  on  earth.  It  is  only  in  later  hymn-books 
that  the  names  of  the  Wesley s  and  Toplady  are  united  j 
and  those  who,  living,  contended  in  very  fierce  contro- 
versy, being  dead,  now  speak  with  one  accord  in  two  of  our 
most  treasured  hymns,  "Hock  of  Ages,"*  and  "Jesus, 
lover  of  my  soul."t 

And  so  that  generation  passed  away  to  learn  the  full 
meaning  of  the  words  they  had  been  singing,  and  left  to 
England  a  rich  heritage  of  sacred  song,  simple  and  homely, 
yet  deep  as  truth,  to  blend  with  the  earlier  psalms  which 
had  descended  to  us  from  the  olden  time. 

It  seems  useless  to  give  extracts  from  hymn-books 
which  are  within  the  reach  of  every  one,  but  a  few  speci- 
mens from  earlier  and  less  accessible  writers  may  be 
interesting,  as  a  close  to  this  brief  sketch  of  English  hymn 
literature. 

POETS  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH'S  TIME. 

THE  HIGHWAY  TO  MOUNT  CALUARIE. 
SAMUEL  ROWLANDS. 

Eepair  to  Pilat's  hall, 
Which  place  when  thou  hast  found, 
There  shalt  thou  see  a  pillar  stand, 
To  which  thy  Lord  was  bound. 

*  Toplady.  f  Charles  Wesley. 


268  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

'Tis  easie  to  be  known 

To  anie  Christian  eye; 

The  bloudie  whips  doe  point  it  out 

From  all  that  stand  thereby. 

By  it  there  lies  a  robe 

Of  purple,  and  a  reed, 

Which  Pilat's  seruants  vs'd  t'  abuse, 

In  sinne's  deriding  deed  ; 

"When  they  pronounced  "All  haile! 
God  saue  thee !  "  with  a  breath, 
And  by  the  same  cride  presently, 
"  Let  Christ  be  done  to  death." 

His  person  had  in  scorne, 

His  doctrine  made  a  iest, 

Their  mockeries  were  a  martirdome ; 

No  wrongs  but  Him  opprest. 

What  courage  lesse  than  His 

Would  haue  indur'd  like  shame, 

But  would  with  griefs  of  such  contempt 

Haue  dide  t'  indure  the  same  1 

A  little  from  that  place, 
Vpon  the  left  hand  side, 
There  is  a  curious  portlie  dore, 
Right  beautiful  1  and  wide. 

Leaue  that  in  anie  wise, 
Forbid  thy  foot  goe  thether ; 
For  out  thereat  did  Judas  goe, 
Despaire  and  he  together. 


THE  HIGHWAY  TO  MOUNT  CALUARIE.  26fe 

But  to  the  right  hande  turne, 
Where  is  a  narrow  gate, 
Forth  which  St  Peter  went  to  weepe 
His  poor  distrest  estate. 

Doe  immitate  the  like, 
Goe  out  at  sorrowe's  dore ; 
Weepe  bitterly  as  he  did  weepe, 
That  wept  to  sinne  no  more. 

Keepe  wide  of  Cayphas'  house, 
Though  couetous  thoughts  infence : 
There  bribery  haunts,  despare  wTas  hatcht; 
False  Judas  came  from  thence. 

But  goe  on  forward  still, 

Where  Pilat's  pallace  stands, 

There  where  he  first  did  false  condemne, 

Then  wash  his  guiltie  hands. 

Confess'd  he  found  no  cause, 
And  yet  condemn'd  to  die, 
Fearing  an  earthly  Ceasar  more 
Than  God  that  rules  on  hie. 

By  this  direction  then, 

The  way  is  vnderstood ; 

No  porch,  no  dore,  nor  hal  to  passe, 

Vnsprinkled  with  Christ's  blood. 

So  shall  no  err  our  put 
Misguiding  steppes  betweene; 
For  euery  drop  sweet  Jesus  shed 
Is  freshly  to  be  seene. 


270  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

A  crowne  of  piercing  thornes 
There  lies  imbru'd  in  gore; 
The  garland  that  thy  Sauiour's  head 
For  thy  offences  wore. 

Which  when  thou  shalt  behold, 
Thinke  what  His  loue  hath  binne, 
Whose  head  was  loaden  with  those  briars 
T'  vnlade  thee  of  thy  sinne. 

Whose  sacred  flesh  was  torne ; 
Whose  holie  skinne  was  rent; 
Whose  tortures  and  extreamest  paines 
Thy  paines  in  hell  preuent. 

As  God  from  Babilon 
Did  turne,  when  they,  past  cure, 
Refused  helpe,  whom  He  would  heale, 
Denying  health  t'  indure : 

So  from  Hierusalem 

The  soule's  Phisition  goes, 

When  they  forsook  His  sauing  health, 

And  vow'd  themselues  His  foes. 

Goe  with  Him,  happie  soule, 
From  that  forsaken  towne, 
Vpon  whose  wals  lies  not  a  stone 
Bat  ruin  must  Jhrow  downe. 

Followe  His  feet  that  goes 

For  to  redeeme  thy  losse, 

And  carries  all  our  shines  with  Him 

To  cansel  on  His  crosse. 


THE  HIGHWAY  TO  MOUNT  CALUARIE.  271 

Behold  what  multitudes 

Doe  guard  thy  God  about, 

Who  bleeding  beares  His  dying  tree 

Amidst  the  Jewish  rout! 

Looke  on  with  liquid  eies, 
And  sigh  from  sorrowing  mind, 
To  see  the  death's-man  goe  before, 
The  murdering  troupes  behind: 

Centurion  hard  at  hand, 

The  thieues  upon  the  side, 

The  exclamations,  shouts,  and  cries, 

The  shame  He  doth  abide. 

Then  presse  amongst  the  throng, 
Thyselfe  with  sorrowes  weed ; 
Get  very  neare  to  Christ,  and  see 
What  teares  the  women  shed ; 

Teares  that  did  turne  him  backe, 

They  were  of  such  a  force — 

Teares  that  did  purchase  daughters'  names 

Of  Father's  kind  remorse. 

To  whom  he  said,  Weepe  not : 

For  me  drop  not  a  teare  ; 

Bewaile  your  offspring,  and  yourselues, 

Griefe's  cause  vnseen  is  neare. 

Follow  their  steps  in  teares, 
And  with  those  women  mourne, 
But  not  for  Christ;  weepe  for  thyselfe, 
And  Christ  will  grace  returne. 


272  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

To  Pilat's  bold  demands 

He  yeelded  no  replie ; 

Although  the  iudge  importun'd  much, 

Yet  silence  did  denie. 

Vnto  his  manie  words 
No  answer  Christ  would  make ; 
Yet  to  those  women  did  He  speake, 
For  teares'  and  weepings'  sake. 

Thinke  on  their  force  by  teares — 
Teares  that  obtained  loue ; 
Where  words  too  weak  could  not  persuade, 
How  teares  had  power  to  moue. 

Then  looke  towards  Jesus'  load, 
More  then  He  could  indure, 
And  how  for  helpe  to  beare  the  same, 
A  hireling  they  procure. 

Joine  thou  vnto  the  crosse  ; 
Beare  it  of  loue's  desire, 
Doe  not  as  Cyranceus  did, 
That  took  it  vp  for  hire. 

It  is  a  gratefull  deed, 

If  willing  vnderta'ne ; 

But  if  compulsion  set  aworke, 

The  labour's  done  in  vaine. 

The  voluntarie  death, 
That  Christ  did  die  for  thee, 
Giues  life  to  none  but  such  as  ioy 
Crosse-bearing  friends  to  be. 


EDMUND  SPENSER.  273 

Vp  to  Mount  Caluerie 

If  thou  desire  to  goe, 

Then  take  thy  crosse  and  follow  Christ, 

Thou  canst  not  misse  it  so. 

When  there  thou  art  arriu'd, 
His  glorious  wounds  to  see, 
Say  but  as  faithful  as  the  thiefe, 
0  Lord,  remember  me. 

Assure  thyselfe  to  have 

A  gift  all  gifts  excelling, 

Once  sold  by  sinne,  once  bought  by  Christ, 

For  saints'  et email  dwelling. 

By  Adam  Paradise 
Was  si nne's  polluted  shade ; 
By  Christ  the  dunghill  Golgotha 
A  paradise  was  made. 

FROM  A  HYMN  OF  HEAVENLY  LOVE. 

EDMUND  SPENSER. 

So  that  next  offspring  of  the  Maker's  love, 
Next  to  Himselfe  in  glorious  degree, 
Degendering  to  hate,  fell  from  above 
Through  pride,  (for  pride  and  love  may  ill  agree,) 
And  now  of  sinne  to  all  ensample  bee  : 
How  then  can  sinnful  flesh  itselfe  assure, 
Sith  purest  angels  fell  to  be  impure  1 

But  that  Eternall  Fount  of  love  and  grace, 

Still  flowing  forth  His  goodnesse  unto  all, 

Now  seeing  left  a  waste  and  emptie  place 

In  His  wyde  pallace,  through  those  angels'  fall, 

A  new  unknowen  colony  therein, 

Whose  root  from  earth's  base  groundworke  should  begin. 


274  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

Therefore  of  clay,  base,  vile,  and  next  to  nought, 
Yet  form'cl  by  wondrous  skill,  and  by  His  might 
According  to  an  heavenly  patterne  wrought, 
Which  He  had  fashion'd  in  His  wise  foresight, 
He  man  did  make,  and  breath'd  a  living  spright 
Into  his  face,  most  beautifull  and  fayre, 
Endewd  with  wisedome's  riches,  heavenly,  rare. 

Such  He  him  made  that  he  resemble  might 
Himselfe,  as  mortall  thing  immortall  could ; 
Him  to  be  lord  of  every  living  wight 
He  made  by  Love  out  of  his  owne  like  mould, 
In  whom  He  might  His  mightie  selfe  behould: 
For  Love  doth  love  the  thing  beloved  to  see, 
That  like  it  selfe  in  lovely  shape  may  bee. 

Tiiit  man,  forgetfull  of  his  Maker's  grace 
No  lesse  than  Angels,  whom  he  did  ensew, 
Fell  from  the  hope  of  pro  mist  heavenly  place 
Into  the  mouth  of  Death,  to  sinners  dew 
And  all  his  offspring  into  thraldome  threw 
Where  they  for  ever  should  in  bonds  remaine 
Of  never-dead  yet  ever-dyeing  paine  : 

Till  that  great  Lord  of  Love,  which  him  at  first 

Made  of  meere  love,  and  after  liked  well 

Seeing  him  lie  like  creature  long  accurst 

In  that  deep  horror  of  despeyred  hell, 

Him,  wretch,  in  doole  would  let  no  longer  dwell 

But  cast  out  of  that  bondage  to  redeeme, 

And  pay  the  price,  all  were  his  debt  extreme. 

Out  of  the  bosome  of  eternall  blisse, 

In  which  He  reigned  with  His  glorious  Syre 

He  downe  descended,  like  a  most  demisse 


HYMN  OF  HEAVENLY  LOVE.  275 

And  abject  thrall,  in  fleshes  fraile  attyre 
That  He  for  him  might  pay  shine's  deadly  hyre, 
And  hi  in  restore  unto  that  happie  state 
In  which  he  stood  before  his  haplesse  fate. 

In  flesh  at  first  the  guilt  committed  was, 

Therefore  in  flesh  it  must  be  satisfy de  ; 

Nor  spirit  nor  angel  though  they  man  surpas, 

Could  make  amends  to  God  for  man's  mis-guy  de, 

But  onely  man  himselfe,  who  selfe  did  slyde  : 

So  taking  flesh  of  sacred  virgin's  wombe, 

For  man's  deare  sake  He  did  a  man  become. 

And  that  most  blessed  bodie,  which  was  borne 
Without  all  blemish  or  reprochfull  blame, 
He  freely  gave  to  be  both  rent  and  torne 
Of  cruell  hands,  who  with  despightfull  shame 
Reviling  Him,  that  them  most  vile  became, 
At  length  Him  nayled  on  a  gallow-tree, 
And  slew  the  iust  by  most  uniust  decree. 

O  huge  and  most  unspeakeable  impression 

Of  Love's  deep  wound,  that  pierst  the  piteous  hart 

Of  that  deare  Lord  with  so  entyre  affection, 

And,  sharply  launcing  every  inner  part, 

Dolours  of  death  into  his  soule  did  dart, 

Doing  Hi m  die  that  never  it  deserved, 

To  free  His  foes,  that  from  His  heast  had  swerved ! 

What  hart  can  feel  least  touch  of  so  sore  launch, 

Or  thought  can  think  the  depth  of  so  deare  wound, 

Whose  bleeding  sourse  their  streames  yet  never  staunch, 

But  stil  do  flow,  and  freshly  still  redownd, 

To  heale  the  sores  of  sinfull  soules  unsound, 

And  cleanse  the  guilt  of  that  infected  eryme 

Which  was  enrooted  in  all  hVshly  slyme. 


276  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

0  blessed  Well  of  Love  !     0  Floure  of  Grace  ! 

O  glorious  Morning  Starre  !     0  Lampe  of  Light ! 

Most  lively  image  of  Thy  Father's  face, 

Eternal  King  of  Glorie,  Lord  of  Might, 

Meeke  Lambe  of  God,  before  all  worlds  behight, 

How  can  we  Thee  requite  for  all  this  good, 

Or  what  can  prize  that  Thy  most  precious  blood  ? 

Yet  nought  Thou  ask'st  in  lieu  of  all  this  love, 

But  love  of  us,  for  guerdon  of  Thy  paine  : 

Ay  me  !  what  can  us  lesse  than  that  behove  ? 

Had  He  required  life  for  us  againe, 

Had  it  beene  wrong  to  ask  His  owne  with  gaine ? 

He  gave  us  life,  He  it  restored  lost ; 

Then  life  were  least,  that  us  so  little  cost. 

But  He  our  life  hath  left  unto  us  free  ; 
Free  that  was  thrall,  and  blessed  that  was  band ; 
Ne  ought  demaunds  but  that  we  loving  bee, 
As  He  Himselfe  hath  lov'd  us  afore-hand, 
And  bound  thereto  with  an  eternall  band, 
Him  first  to  love  that  was  so  dearely  bought, 
And  next  our  brethren,  to  His  image  wrought. 

Him  first  to  love  great  right  and  reason  is, 
Who  first  to  us  our  life  and  being  gave, 
And  after,  when  we  fared  had  amisse, 
Us  wretches  from  the  second  death  did  save ; 
And  last,  the  food  of  life,  which  now  we  have, 
Even  He  Himselfe  in  His  dear  sacrament, 
To  feede  our  hungry  soules,  unto  us  lent. 

Then  next,  to  love  our  brethren,  that  were  made 
Of  that  selfe  mould,  and  that  selfe  Maker's  hand, 
That  we,  and  to  the  same  againe  shall  fade, 
VVhere  they  shall  have  like  heritage  of  land, 
However  here  on  higher  steps  we  stand, 


HYMN  OF  HEAVENLY  LOVE.  2  i  i 

Which  also  were  with  selfe-same  price  redeem'd 
That  we,  however  of  us  light  esteem'd. 

And  were  they  not,  yet  since  that  loving  Lord 

Commanded  us  to  love  them  for  His  sake, 

Even  for  His  sake,  and  for  His  sacred  word, 

Which  in  His  last  bequest  He  to  us  spake, 

We  should  them  love,  and  with  their  needs  partake  ; 

Knowing  that  whatsoe'er  to  them  we  give, 

YvTe  give  to  Him  by  whom  we  all  doe  live. 

Such  mercy  He  by  His  most  holy  reede 
Unto  us  taught,  and  to  approve  it  trew, 
Ensampled  it  by  His  most  righteous  deede, 
Shewing  us  mercie  (miserable  crew  !) 
That  we  the  like  should  to  the  wretches  shew, 
And  love  our  brethren  ;  thereby  to  approve 
How  much  Himselfe  that  loved  us  we  love. 

Then  rouze  thyself,  0  earth !  out  of  thy  soyle, 
In  which  thou  wallowest  like  to  filthy  swyne, 
And  doest  thy  mynd  in  durty  pleasures  moyle, 
Unmindfull  of  that  dearest  Lord  of  thyne  ; 
Lift  up  to  Him  thy  heavy  clouded  eyne, 
That  thou  this  soveraine  bountie  mayst  beholde, 
And  read,  through  Love,  His  mercies  manifold. 

Beginne  from  first,  where  He  encradled  was 
In  simple  cratch,  wrapt  in  a  wad  of  hay 
Betweene  the  toylfull  oxe  and  humble  asse, 
And  in  what  rags,  and  in  how  base  array, 
The  glory  of  our  heavenly  riches  lay, 
When  Him  the  silly  shepheards  came  to  see, 
Whom  greatest  princes  sought  on  lowest  knee. 

From  thence  reade  on  the  storie  of  His  life, 
His  humble  carriage,  His  unfaulty  wayes, 


278  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

His  can  creel  foes,  His  fights,  His  toyle,  His  strife, 
His  paines,  His  povertie,  His  sharpe  assayes, 
Through  which  he  past  His  miserable  dayes, 
Offending  none,  and  doing  good  to  all, 
Yet  being  malist  both  by  great  and  small. 

And  look  at  last,  how  of  most  wretched  wights 

He  taken  was,  betrayd,  and  false  accused ; 

How  with  most  scornful  taunts  and  fell  despights 

He  was  revyld,  disgrast,  and  foule  abused  ; 

How  scourgd,  how  crownd,  how  buffeted,  how  brused  ; 

And  lastly,  how  twixt  robbers  crucifyde 

With  bitter  wounds  through  hands,  through  feet  and  syde. 

1  hen  let  thy  flinty  hart  that  feeles  no  paine 

Empierced  be  with  pittifull  remorse, 

And  let  thy  bowels  bleede  in  every  vaine 

At  sight  of  His  most  sacred  heavenly  corse, 

So  torne  and  mangled  with  malicious  force  ; 

And  let  thy  soule,  whose  sins  His  sorrows  wrought, 

Melt  into  tears,  and  grone  in  grieved  thought. 

With  sense  whereof,  whilest  so  thy  soften'd  spirit 
Is  inly  toucht,  and  humbled  with  meeke  zeale 
Through  meditation  of  His  endlesse  merit, 
Lift  up  thy  mind  to  th'  Author  of  thy  weale, 
And  to  his  soveraine  mercie  doe  appeale : 
Learne  Him  to  love  that  loved  thee  so  deare, 
And  in  thy  brest  His  blessed  image  beare. 

With  all  thy  hart,  with  all  thy  soule  and  minde, 
Thou  must  Him  love,  and  His  beheasts  embrace  : 
All  other  loves,  with  which  the  world  doth  blind 
Weake  fancies,  and  stir  up  affectiones  base, 
Thou  must  renounce  and  utterly  displace : 


SIR  PHILIP  SYDNEY.  279 

And  give  thyself  unto  Him  full  and  free, 
That  full  and  freely  gave  Himselfe  to  thee. 

Then  shalt  thou  feele  thy  spirit  so  possest 
And  ravisht  with  devouring  great  desire 
Of  His  dear  selfe,  that  shall  thy  feeble  brest 
Inflame  with  love,  and  set  thee  all  on  fire 
With  burning  zeale,  through  every  part  entire, 
That  in  no  earthly  thing  thou  shalt  delight, 
But  in  His  sweet  and  amiable  sight. 

Thenceforth  all  world's  desire  will  in  thee  dye  ; 
And  all  earth's  glorie,  on  which  men  do  gaze, 
Seeme  durt  and  drosse  in  thy  pure-sighted  eye, 
Compar'd  to  that  celestiall  beautie's  blaze, 
Whose  glorious  beanies  all  fleshly  sense  doth  daze 
With  admiration  of  their  passing  light 
Blinding  the  eyes,  and  lumining  the  spiight. 

Then  shall  thy  ravisht  soul  inspired  bee 

With  heavenly  thoughts,  farre  above  humane  skil, 

And  thy  bright  radiant  eyes  shall  plainly  see 

Th'  idee  of  His  pure  glorie  present  still 

Before  thy  face,  that  all  thy  spirits  shall  fill 

With  sweete  enragement  of  celestiall  love, 

Kindled  through  sight  of  those  faire  things  above. 

PSALM  XXIII. 
SIR  PHILIP  SYDNEY. 

The  Lord,  the  Lord  my  shepheard  is, 
And  so  can  never  I 
Tast  missery. 
He  rests  me  in  greene  pastures  his ; 
By  waters  still  and  sweete 
He  guides  my  feete. 


280  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

Hee  me  revives  ;  leades  me  the  way, 
Which  righteousDesse  doth  take, 
For  His  name  sake. 
Yea,  though  I  should  through  valleys  stray 
Of  death's  dark  shade,  I  will 
Noe  whitt  feare  ill. 

For  Thou,  deere  Lord,  Thou  me  besett'st, 
Thy  rodd  and  thy  staff  be 
To  comfort  me : 
Before  me  thou  a  table  sett'st, 
Even  when  foes'  envious  eye 
Doth  it  espy. 

Thou  oil'st  my  head,  Thou  fill'st  my  cupp  ; 
Nay  more,  Thou  endlesse  Good, 
Shalt  give  me  food. 
To  Thee,  I  say  ascended  up, 
Where  Thou,  the  Lord  of  all 
Dost  hold  thy  hall. 

MY  PILGRIMAGE. 
SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

Give  me  my  scallop-shell  of  quiet, 

My  staff  of  faith  to  walk  upon, 

My  scrip  of  ioye,  (immortal  diet !) 

My  bottle  of  saluation, 

My  gowne  of  glory,  hope's  true  gage  ; — 

And  thus  I  take  my  pilgrimage. 

Blood  must  be  my  body's  balmer, 
While  my  soule,  like  peaceful  palmer, 
Travelleth  towards  the  land  of  heauen  : 
Other  balm  will  not  be  giuen. 
Over  the  silver  mountains, 
Where  spring  the  nectar-fountains, 


GEORGE  HERBERT.  281 


There  will  I  kiss 

The  bowl  of  bliss 
And  drink  mine  everlasting  fill 
Upon  euery  milken  hill : 
My  sonl  will  be  adry  before, 
But  after  that  will  thirst  no  more. 


PRAYER. 
GEORGE  HERBERT. 

Of  what  an  easy  quick  access, 
My  blessed  Lord,  art  Thou  !  how  suddenly 

May  our  requests  thy  ear  invade  ! 
To  shew  that  state  dislikes  not  easiness, 
If  I  but  lift  mine  eyes,  my  suit  is  made  : 
Thou  canst  no  more  not  hear,  than  Thou  canst  die. 

Of  what  supreme  almighty  power 
Is  Thy  great  arm,  which  spans  the  east  and  west, 

And  tacks  the  centre  to  the  sphere  ! 
By  it  do  all  things  live  their  measured  hour : 
We  cannot  ask  the  thing  which  is  not  there, 
Blaming  the  shallowness  of  our  request! 

Of  what  immeasurable  love 
Art  Thou  possess'd,  who  when  Thou  couldst  not  die 

Wert  fain  to  take  our  flesh  and  curse, 
And  for  our  sakes  in  person  sin  reprove; 
That  by  destroying  that  which  tied  Thy  purse 
Thou  might*st  make  way  for  liberality  ! 

Since  then  these  three  wait  on  Thy  throne, 
Ease,  Power,  and  Love ;  I  value  Prayer  so, 

That  were  I  to  leave  all  but  one, 
Wealth,  fame,  endowments,  virtues,  all  should  go: 
1  and  dear  Prayer  would  together  dwell, 
And  quickly  gain,  for  each  inch  lost,  an  ell 


282  ENGLISH  HYMNS. 

ON  THE  PROVIDENCE  OF  GOD. 
KICIIAED  BAXTER. 

My  Lord  hath  taught  me  how  to  want 
A  place  wherein  to  put  my  head. 

While  He  is  mine,  I'll  be  content 
To  beg  or  lack  my  daily  bread. 

Heaven  is  my  roof,  earth  is  my  floor, 
Thy  love  can  keep  me  dry  and  warm ; 

Christ  and  Thy  bounty  are  my  store, 
Thy  angels  guard  me  from  all  harm. 

Must  I  forsake  the  soil  and  air 

Where  first  I  drew  my  vital  breath  ? 

That  way  may  be  as  near  and  fair 
Thence  1  may  come  to  Thee  by  death. 

All  countries  are  my  Father's  lands — 
Thy  Sun,  Thy  Love  doth  shine  on  all ; 

We  may  in  all  lift  up  pure  hands, 
And  with  acceptance  on  Thee  call. 

What  if  in  prison  I  must  dwell — 

May  I  not  there  converse  with  Thee  ? 

Save  me  from  sin,  Thy  wrath,  and  hell, 
Call  me  Thy  child,  and  I  am  free. 

No  walls  or  bars  can  keep  Thee  out  ; 

None  can  confine  a  holy  soul ; 
The  streets  of  heaven  it  walks  about, 

None  can  its  liberty  control. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

HYMNS  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME   SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

When  the  great  stream  of  Church  history  was  parted  in 
two  at  the  Reformation,  and  Christian  life  burst  the  bar- 
riers of  the  middle  ages,  and  made  for  itself  a  new  channel, 
no  doubt  some  portion  of  the  living  waters  still  continued 
to  flow  in  the  old  river  bed.  The  Reformation  did  not 
draw  all  the  life  out  of  the  Church  of  B,ome;  and  although, 
as  we  believe,  after  Luther's  time,  the  great  chorus  of 
sacred  song  is  to  be  heard  among  the  Reformed  Churches, 
many  a  true  psalm  ascended  from  the  midst  of  the  unre- 
formed  communities — many,  doubtless,  more  than  human 
history  has  ever  recorded.  Yet  these  voices  are  solitary  ; 
they  rise  alone  in  a  dead  silence  which  comprehends  them 
not,  or  too  often  are  hushed  in  a  storm  of  opposing  sound, 
neither  sacred  nor  melodious.  While  the  hymns  of  Luther 
and  Cerhard,  the  Wesleys  and  Cowper,  are  responded  to 
by  the  hearts  and  voices  of  tens  of  thousands,  Michael 
Angelo's  sonnets  are  the  possession  only  of  a  choice  circle, 
and  Madame  Guion  sang  the  sweetest  of  her  hymns  in  the 
Bastille.  The  great  Italian  belongs,  indeed,  in  spirit  rather 
to  the  Reformation  than  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  In  his 
later  years,  when   his   Platonism   found   a    basis   for  its 


284       THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

sublimest  visions  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Cross ;  when,  in 
his  own  words,  his  soul  had  been  remodelled,  or  "  born 
anew,"  through  the  influence  of  Vittoria  Colonna,  friend 
of  the  martyr  Yaldes,  his  faith  seems  to  have  been  as 
simple  as  that  of  Luther.  The  architect  of  St  Peters — poet, 
painter,  sculptor — gifted  with  that  central  force  of  genius 
from  which  every  special  talent  seemed  to  radiate,  writes 
thus  in  his  later  years, — 

Despite  Thy  promises,  0  Lord,  't  would  seem  * 
Too  much  to  hope  that  even  love  like  Thine 
Can  overlook  my  countless  wanderings  ; 
And  yet  Thy  blood  helps  me  to  comprehend 
That  if  Thy  pangs  for  us  were  measureless, 
No  less,  beyond  all  measure,  is  Thy  grace. 

SONNET  XLIX. 

From  a  vexatious  heavy  load  set  free, 
Eternal  Lord  !  and  from  the  world  unloosed, 
Wearied  to  Thee  I  turn,  like  a  frail  bark, 
'Scaped  from  fierce  storms,  into  a  placid  sea. 
The  thorns,  the  nails,  the  one  and  the  other  hand, 
Together  with  Thine  aspect,  meek,  benign, 
And  mangled,  pledge  the  grace  to  mourning  souls 
Of  deep  repentance  and  salvation's  hope. 
View  not  my  sins  in  the  condemning  light 
Of  justice  strict :  avert  Thine  awful  ear, 
Nor  stretch  forth  on  me  Thine  avenging  arm. 
May  Thy  blood  wash  my  guilt  and  sins  away ; 
As  age  creeps  on,  may  it  abound  the  more 
With  timely  aid,  and  full  forgiveness  ! 

*  From  the  Life  of  Michael  Angelo  Buonarotti.  By  John  S.  Harford,  Esq. 


MICHAEL  AXGELO.  285 

And  in  his  eighty-third  year  : — 

TO  VASARI. 

Time  my  frail  bark  o'er  a  rough  ocean  guides, 

Swift  to  that  port  where  all  must  touch  that  live, 

And  of  their  actions,  good  or  evil,  give 

A  strict  account,  where  Truth  supreme  presides. 

As  to  gay  Fancy,  in  which  art  confides, 

And  even  her  idol  and  her  monarch  makes, 

Full  well  I  know  how  largely  it  partakes 

Of  error  ;  but  frail  man  in  error  prides. 

Thy  thoughts,  once  prompt  round  hurtful  things  to  twine, 

Wnat  are  they  now,  when  two  dread  deaths  are  near ! 

The  one  impends,  the  other  shakes  his  spear, 

Painting  and  Sculpture's  aid  in  vain  I  crave  ; 

My  one  sole  refuge  is  that  Love  Divine, 

Which  from  the  cross  stretch'd  forth  its  arms  to  save. 

Words  of  deepest  interest,  whether  we  look  on  them  as 
the  childlike  homage  of  one  of  the  strongest  and  loftiest 
of  human  intellects  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  or  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  many  pure  hymns  of  hope  and  thanksgiving 
which  may  have  been  sung  to  God,  from  that  day  to  this, 
in  the  Church  whose  outw^ard  communion  Michael  An- 
gelo  never  left.  Madame  Guion's  hymns  are,  however, 
perhaps  a  truer  type  of  the  form  which  genuine  piety  has 
been  driven  into  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  since  the 
Council  of  Trent  anathematised  the  doctrine  of  justifica- 
tion by  faith.  Forbidden  to  rest  on  the  definite  and  solid 
foundation  of  Scriptural  doctrine,  the  heart  of  Madame 
Guion,  taught  of  God  to  rest  in  His  redeeming  love,  soared 
into  a  region  of  lofty  mysticism,  and  by  the  combined  force 
of  much  grace  and  much  imagination,  kept  on  the  wing. 


286       THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

She  grasped  the  great  central  truth  that  God  is  love,  and 
in  His  love  she  rested ;  she  was  content  to  be  nothing  that 
He  might  be  all ;  and  in  His  will  hers  was,  she  believed, 
absorbed.  And  she  surely  must  have  experienced  deep  and 
blessed  communion  with  Him.  Yet  in  those  of  her  hymns 
translated  by  Cowper,  is  there  not  a  sad  dearth  of  the 
strain  which  is  first  and  last  in  the  new  song,  "  Tbou 
wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  Thy  blood"  ? 
She  speaks  of  God  as  love,  but  the  title  which  the 
apostle  of  love  delights  in,  from  the  beginning  of  his 
Gospel  to  the  end  of  the  Apocalypse,  "  The  Lamb  of 
God,"  is  little  heard  in  her  poems.  When  the  Cross  is 
mentioned,  it  is  rather  the  cross  of  the  disciple  than  the 
blood-stained  and  redeeming  Cross  of  the  Lord.  That 
title,  which  links  human  relationships  with  heaven,  is  not 
frequent  there.  God  is  contemplated  rather  as  a  mystic 
abyss  of  infinite  love,  than  as  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  who  is  also  our  Father.  The  words  "  God 
is  love,"  are  perhaps  understood  rather  as  an  abstract  pro- 
position concerning  His  nature,  than  as  the  truth  which 
makes  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in  Unity  living  and 
personal — eternal  and  infinite  love  with  an  eternal  and 
infinite  object :  "  The  Father  loveth  the  Son."  Thus  in 
practical  life  there  is  danger  of  the  Christian  and  human 
ideal  being  in  a  measure  replaced  by  the  stoic  or  super- 
natural. Human  relationships  are  looked  on  as  hinder- 
ances  to  the  highest  piety,  rather  than  as  God's  appointed 
means  of  its  manifestation  ;  the  love  of  His  creatures  is 
considered  rather  as  a  rival  to  the  love  of  the  Creator, 
than  as  the  necessary  consequence  of  that  highest  love. 
Is  it  not  forgotten  that  the  Gospel  which  contains  most  of 


.MADAME  GUION.  287 

what  is  called  the  mystic  or  Platonic  element,  contains 
also  the  most  homely  touches  of  simple,  human  tender- 
ness %  that  the  apostle  who  speaks  of  the  Son  of  God  as 
"the  Word,"  speaks  of  Him  also  as  the  special  human 
Friend  ?  that  the  seer  of  the  apocalyptic  vision  was  "  the 
disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,  who  had  leaned  on  his  breast 
at  supper "  1 

Many  of  Madame  Guion's  hymns  on  submission  to  the 
will  of  God,  are,  indeed,  full  of  expressions  of  the  most 
humble  and  blessed  confidence.  See,  for  example,  that 
one,  so  well-known  in  Cowper's  translation  : — 

0  Thou,  by  long  experience  tried, 
Near  whom  no  grief  can  long  abide ; 
My  Love !  how  full  of  sweet  content 

1  pass  my  years  of  banishment ! 

All  scenes  alike  engaging  prove 
To  souls  impress'd  with  sacred  love; 
Where'er  they  dwell,  they  dwell  in  Thee, 
In  heaven,  in  earth,  or  on  the  sea. 

To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time, 
My  country  is  in  every  clime; 
I  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

"While  place  we  seek,  or  place  we  shun, 
The  soul  can  find  repose  in  none ; 
But  with  a  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tia  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

Could  I  be  cast  where  Thou  art  not, 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  lot; 


288       THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

But  regions  none  remote  I  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 

My  country,  Lord,  art  Thou  alone ; 
No  other  can  I  claim  or  own : 
The  point  where  all  my  wishes  meet, 
My  law,  my  love,  life's  only  sweet. 

I  hold  by  nothing  here  below ; 

Appoint  my  journey,  and  I  go; 

Though  pierced  by  scorn,  oppress'd  by  pride, 

I  feel  Thee  good — feel  nought  beside. 

No  frowns  of  men  can  hurtful  prove 
To  souls  on  fire  with  heavenly  love ; 
Though  men  and  devils  both  condemn, 
No  gloomy  days  arise  from  them. 

Ah,  then!  to  His  embrace  repair; 
My  soul,  thou  art  no  stranger  there ; 
There  love  divine  shall  be  thy  guard, 
And  peace  and  safety  thy  reward. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  listen  with  sympathy  and  reve- 
rence to  words  like  these,  which  were,  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  the  genuine  experience  of  the  writer;  tried  and 
found  true  metal  in  many  a  fire  of  reproach  and  tribulation. 
Yet  is  there  not  an  example  before  us,  at  first  sight,  to 
the  careless  glance  perhaps,  less  exalted,  yet  in  reality 
far  more  sublime,  because  more  lowly,  more  Godlike,  be- 
cause more  human? 

Sorrow  and  joy  were  not  "equal"  to  Him  in  whose 
steps  we  are  called  to  follow ;  no  stoic  resolution  raised 


SELF-SACRIFICE    NOT    SELF-ANNIHILATION.  289 

Him  above  the  anguish  of  bodily  pain  or  mental  conflict. 
It  was  not  indifferent  to  Him  that  the  three  He  had  called 
apart  slept  during  His  hours  of  agony,  or  that  the  disciple 
He  had  saved  from  sinking  in  the  sea  of  Galilee,  denied 
Him  in  the  hall  of  Caiaphas.  And  however  much  the 
agonies  of  expiation  increased  his  sufferings,  and  made 
them  of  a  different  nature  from  any  of  ours,  yet  in  this 
also  He  left  us  an  example.  If  Stephen  died  in  joy  and 
not  in  darkness,  it  was  not  because  joy  and  sorrow  were 
rendered  equal  to  him,  but  because  Jesus  was  revealed  to 
him,  and  gave  him  joy,  and  made  his  martyrdom  a  triumph. 
It  may  seem  a  high  attainment  when  chastening  comes, 
to  rise  above  it  and  trample  it  beneath  our  feet ;  but, 
perhaps,  in  eyes  which  see  more  truly  than  ours,  it  is 
higher  still  to  bow  beneath  it,  and  feel  the  anguish,  and 
weep,  and  tremble,  and  yet  endure,  and  believe  in  the 
Love  which  smites — loftier,  because  more  lowly.  Sorrow 
can  scarcely  be  discipline  unless  it  is  pain,  and  the  con- 
nexion is  close  between  the  chastening  which  for  the 
time  seemed  to  be  grievous,  and  the  peaceable  fruits 
which  follow.  In  aspiring  in  this  life  to  the  "  repose"  of 
heaven,  there  is  danger  of  sinking  into  the  mere  stillness 
of  frost.  And  even  heaven  itself  is  pictured  to  us,  not  as 
an  ocean  of  eternal  calm,  but  a  city  where  there  is  cease- 
less activity,  a  temple  where  there  is  perpetual  worship. 
The  beatific  vision  is  associated  with  the  unwearied  ser- 
vice :  God  Himself  is  revealed  to  us  as  "  working  hither- 
to," is  manifested  to  us  in  Him  who  went  about  doing- 
good  ;  for  God  is  love,  and  love  is  at  once  perfect  repose 
and  ceaseless  action. 

Is  there  not  also  an  unconscious  contradiction  in  Madame 


290  THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

Guion's  whole  religious  system  ?  While  professing  to  dis- 
regard frames  and  feelings,  and  to  rise  above  all  desire  of 
even  spiritual  joy  into  a  sublime  calm  of  love  and  sub- 
mission, is  not  this  absence  of  emotion  only  another  form 
of  emotion  ?  Does  not  this  supposed  self-annihilation 
involve,  in  fact,  the  most  ceaseless  and  subtle  self-study 
and  introspection  ?  God  can  only  be  made  known  to  us 
by  an  outward  or  an  inward  revelation.  Both  are  found 
in  Christianity — the  manifestation  of  God  in  Christ,  and 
the  inward  manifestation  of  the  Father  and  the  Son  to 
the  heart  by  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  it  makes  all  the  dif- 
ference in  practical  religion  whether  the  hidden  life  is 
believed  to  be  nourished  by  the  contemplation  of  the  in- 
ward or  the  outward  revelation,  because  the  one  belief 
leads  to  the  study  of  Christ,  and  the  other  to  the  intro- 
spection of  self,  even  though  veiled  under  the  title  of  self- 
annihilation.  The  Bible  has  not  left  us  in  the  dark  on 
this  subject.  The  question  has  been  asked  and  answered  : 
"  Judas  saith  unto  him,  not  Iscariot,  Lord,  how  is  it  that 
thou  wilt  manifest  thyself  unto  us,  and  not  unto  the 
world  ?  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  If  a  man 
love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words  :  and  my  Father  will  love 
him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our  abode 
with  him."  And  again,  "  But  we  all,  with  open  face  be- 
holding as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed 
into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  ;"  and,  "  When  he  shall  appear  we  shall 
be  like  him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."  Are  we  not 
thus  plainly  taught  that  the  Word  of  God,  the  outward 
revelation,  is  the  means  of  the  inward  illumination  ?  that 
the  soul  is  gradually  transfigured  by  the  contemplation  of 


MYSTICAL  AND  EVANGELICAL  HYMNS.  291 

Jesus  into  His  image,  as  the  body  will  be  hereafter  sud- 
denly transfigured  into  His  perfect  likeness,  when  "  we 
see  Hira  as  He  is"  ?  •  And  this  outward  revelation  is,  we 
know,  no  philosophical  essay,  no  collection  of  abstract 
propositions,  but  the  narrative  of  the  human  life  and 
death  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  son  of  David,  and  Son  of 
God,  with  all  that  led  to  that  great  central  point  of  reve- 
lation, and  that  flowed  from  it.  Therefore,  sublime  and 
poetical  as  Madame  Guion's  hymns  are  (in  Cowper's  trans- 
lations), surely  his  own,  and  even  John  Newton's,  are  far 
more  truly  sublime,  as  well  as  more  practical,  simply 
because  more  deeply  steeped  in  the  Evangelical  history. 
Where,  in  all  the  mystic  writers,  can  be  found  verses 
which  have  melted,  and  humbled,  and  cheered  the  heart 
like  those  of  Cowper's,  shadowed  even  as  some  of  them 
are  by  his  own  distressing  malady — "  Oh  for  a  closer  walk 
with  God."  "  There  is  a  fountain  fill'd  with  blood."  "  Hark, 
my  soul !  it  is  the  Lord."  "  Jesus,  where'er  Thy  people 
meet."  "  What  various  hindrances  we  meet."  "  The  Spirit 
breathes  upon  the  Word."  a'Tis  my  happiness  below 
not  to  live  without  the  cross."  "  The  billows  swell,  the 
winds  are  high."  "  God  of  my  life,  to  Thee  I  call."  "  O 
Lord,  my  best  desire  fulfil."  "  Sometimes  a  light  surprises." 
"  I  thirst,  but  not  as  once  I  did."  "  To  Jesus,  the  Crown 
of  my  hope ;"  and  that  matchless  hymn,  "  God  moves  in  a 
mysterious  way."  What  variety  and  tenderness  ;  what 
childlike  trust,  and  what  holy  fear  ;  what  trembling  and 
rejoicing ;  what  tears  and  what  love  thrill  through  thofe 
hymns  !  How  plainly  they  are  the  utterance  of  life,  not 
indeed  the  life  that  perisheth,  but  a  new  and  immortal  life, 
full  of  new  relationships,  new  hopes  and  fears — heavenly. 


292  THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

yet  most  human  ;  a  life  brought  to  perfection  through 
storms  and  calms,  sunshine  and  rain,  bleak  winds  and  soft 
breezes ;  a  life  not  moulded  to  its  full  perfection  at  once, 
as  man's  works  are,  but  "  born"  weak  and  small,  and  de- 
veloped, through  joy  and  sorrow,  tender  nurture,  and  hard 
discipline,  to  what  it  shall  be,  which  wTe  know  not  yet ! 

Nevertheless,  whilst  it  seems  too  plain  that  the  Church 
of  Rome,  in  rejecting  the  Scriptural  creed,  has  stunted  or 
distorted  even  the  religious  life  which  remains  among  her 
adherents,  we  cannot  but  welcome  every  symptom  that 
such  life  existed  or  exists  beneath  her  sway,  the  issue  of  a 
fountain  all  her  efforts  cannot  wholly  seal.  One  "  means 
of  grace"  is  generally  insured  to  Christians  in  her  commu- 
nion, for  lack  of  which  pruning  Protestant  piety  sometimes 
runs  into  leaf.  The  sacrament  of  martyrdom  has  seldom 
failed  any  who  have  sought  truly  to  serve  God  within  her 
pale.  In  this  way  she  has  faithfully  presented  the  cup  to 
the  laity.  Jansenists  drank  deep  of  it ;  it  was  held  to  the 
unmurmuring  lips  of  Fenelon ;  and  Madame  Guion  tasted 
it  from  the  hands  of  Bossuet.  Those  who  procured  the 
Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and,  according  to  the 
Duke  of  St.  Simon,  thus  robbed  France  of  her  most  indus- 
trious citizens,  were  too  keen-sighted  not  to  recognize  in 
Madame  Guion  the  same  family-likeness,  though  unknown 
to  herself.  It  must  indeed  have  been  from  heaven  that 
hymns  like  those  she  sang  flowed  into  every  heart  within 
the  atmosphere  of  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  it  was  an 
honour  to  be  sent,  as  she  was,  by  that  court  to  finish  them 
in  the  Bastile. 

Mystic  adoration  of  Him  who  is  love  is  not,  however, 
the  characteristic  of  the  popular  hymns  of  the  Church  of 


xavier's  hymn.  293 

Rome.  The  one  "pierced  through  with  many  sorrows," 
to  whom  Goethe's  Gretchen  prayed  in  her  anguish  ;  to 
whom  the  hearts  of  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
throughout  Europe  turn  as  the  "  refuge  of  the  sinner"  and 
"  the  consolation  of  the  afflicted  ;"  to  whom  the  morning 
and  evening  hymns  of  childhood  are  lisped,  and  to  whom 
the  mourner  turns,  is  not  the  Father  who  so  loved  the 
world,  nor  the  Man  of  sorrows  who  was  "  wounded  for  our 
transgressions."  The  old  hymns  to  Christ  are  in  the 
Latin  prayer-books,  but  the  Ave  Maria  is  on  the  lips  of 
the  people.  Yet  surely  some  drops  of  the  living  fountain 
still  well  up  through  the  ice  ;  the  crucifix  itself  may  teach 
some  hearts,  and  all  eyes  are  not  turned  aside  from  the 
Divine  Redeemer  dying  there,  to  the  weeping  mother 
whom  He  comforted. 

The  following  hymn,  which  has  been  attributed  to 
Francis  Xavier,  canonised  saint  of  the  Church  of  Rome, 
that  devoted  missionary  in  India  and  China,  is,  we  may 
trust,  but  one  of  many  such  sacred  songs  which  rise  to 
God  throughout  the  regions  where  the  Church  of  Xavier 
reigns.  It  breathes  the  spirit  of  the  mysticism  of  Madame 
Guion,  or  rather  of  the  amour  pure  of  Fenelon  ;  but  while 
it  rejects  the  thought  of  reward,  it  is  rooted  deep  in  grati- 
tude, and  is  steeped  in  the  love  of  the  Cross.  It  is  given 
both  in  Latin  and  English,  because  the  original  is  so  sim- 
ple as  necessarily  to  lose  much  of  its  depth  and  beauty  in 
a  translation, — 

ORATIO    AD    DEUM. 
FRANCIS  XAVIER. 

0  Deus,  ego  amo  te ; 
Nee  amo  te  ut  salves  me, 


294  THE  CHURCH  OF  ROME  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

Aut  quia  non  amantes  te 
Mtemo  punis  igne. 

Tu,  Tu,  mi  Jesu,  totum  me 

Amplexus  es  in  cruce ; 
Tulisti  clavos,  lanceam, 

Multamque  ignominiam. 

Innumeros  dolores 

Sudores  et  angores, 
Ac  mortem,  et  haec  propter  me, 

Ac  pro  me  peccatore. 

Cur  igitur  non  amem  Te, 

0  Jesu  amantissime ! 
Non,  ut  in  ccelo  salves  me, 

Aut  ne  seternum  damnes  me ; 

Nee  prcemii  ullius  spe, 

Sed  sicut  tu  amasti  me  ; 
Sic  amo  et  amabo  te, 

Solum  quia  Eex  meus  es, 

Et  solum  quia  Deus  es. 


0  God  !  my  heart  is  fixed  on  Thee, 
Not  that  Thou  may'st  deliver  me, 
Nor  because  those  who  love  not  Thee 

In  quenchless  fire  must  languish ; 
But  thou,  my  Saviour,  on  the  tree, 
Embracedst  me  with  mercy  free, 
For  me  didst  bitter  mockings  bear, 
For  me  the  torturing  nails  and  spear, 

Much  shame  and  speechless  anguish ; 


xavier's  hymn.  295 

And  death  itself  and  all  for  me, 

And  in  my  stead,  a  sinner. 
How  therefore  can  I  not  love  Thee, 
0  worthy  best  beloved  to  be, 
Not  for  the  hope  of  joy  in  heaven, 
Nor  fear  lest  I  to  hell  be  driven, 
Nor,  0  my  freely  loving  Lord ! 
For  any  promise  of  reward, 
But  all  because  Thou  lovedst  me  1 

Thus  love  I  Thee  with  steadfast  heart 
Only  because  my  King  Thou  art, 

And  because  Thou  art  God. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


CONCLUSION. 


We  have  been  listening  to  the  murmurs  of  the  great 
stream  of  sacred  song  as  it  has  flowed  on  from  age  to  age — 
sometimes  nearly  buried  in  the  sands  of  time,  sometimes 
parted  into  many  smaller  streams ;  now  bursting  bar- 
riers of  centuries  in  a  rush  of  music,  and  then  flowing 
calmly  in  a  broader  current — but  never  utterly  dried  up 
or  silent.  Never  has  the  ceaseless  song  of  Nature  to  her 
Maker  been  altogether  without  words  ;  the  music  of  the 
Creature  has  never  been  wholly  unaccompanied  by  the 
hymn  of  the  Child.  The  new  song  of  the  redeemed  hushed 
the  first  discords  of  the  Fall,  and  met  the  echoes  of  the  ear- 
lier song  of  unfallen  creatures  ere  they  were  quite  lost  inside 
the  closed  gates  of  Eden.  Ever  the  same,  it  has  yet  been 
ever  new.  It  has  been  no  languid,  luxurious  strain,  float- 
ing over  a  banquet.  Like  the  old  song  of  Moses,  it  has  been 
throughout  a  battle-song — a  chant,  indeed,  of  victory  and 
redemption,  but  sung  by  pilgrims  and  soldiers  who  had 
yet  a  wilderness  to  cross  ere  they  reached  the  land  of 
promise  and  the  city  of  God.  From  the  day  when  Mary 
the  mother  of  Jesus  sang  the  first  Christian  hymn,  to 
the  latest  that  has  entered  our  modern  hymn-books,  One 
Name,  which  is  above  every  name,  has  made  all  its  music. 


THE  SINGERS  OF  THE  SONG.  297 

Ephraem,  the  Syrian  monk,  sang  his  psalms  of  welcome 
where  once  the  children  of  Jerusalem  had  strewed  their 
palm  branches  ;  Gregory  Nazianzen,  poor,  old,  and  lowly, 
found  Him  fatherland  and  home ;  Ambrose  filled  Milan 
with  the  praises  of  the  Ptedeemer  of  the  nations,  the  Sun 
of  righteousness  ;  Prudentius  sang  how  the  dead  reposed 
in  Plim  ;  Bernard  rejoiced  in  His  cross  and  His  promise  ; 
Luther  called  on  all  Christian  people  to  triumph  in  His 
completed  redemption ;  Wesley  fled  to  Him  while  the 
tempest  still  was  high  •  Cowper  pointed  to  the  Fountain 
which  could  wash  all  stains  away.  All  sang  as  of  a  vic- 
tory already  won,  and  yet  as  themselves  still  in  the  battle- 
field, and  pressing  onward  to  the  prize.  They  sang  of  a 
Sun  which  had  arisen,  and  yet,  as  travellers  at  night,  of  a 
Day  which  had  yet  to  dawn,  They  sang  of  Redemption 
already  accomplished,  but  also  of  a  City  yet  to  come.  And 
the  Sun  whose  light  they  knew,  yet  waited  for,  the  Victor 
and  Redeemer,  the  Captain  in  the  present  warfare,  the 
Joy  and  Glory  of  the  heavenly  city,  are  all  One.  All  along 
the  ages,  through  all  the  tumult  of  the  world,  and  all  the 
wanderings  of  the  Church,  that  song  has  never  paused. 
The  joyful  "  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to 
God  by  Thy  blood,"  of  those  who  have  overcome,  has  never 
been  without  its  echo  from  the  struggling  multitudes  on 
the  battle-field  below.  Nor  is  it  pausing  now.  Mercies,  new 
every  morning,  are  still  calling  forth  new  songs  of  praise. 

"  To  every  freshly  opening  flower 
Fresh  songs  of  joy  are  due; 
For  whilst  time  flies  and  comes  no  more, 
The  seasons  bloom  anew."  * 

*  Goethe. 


298  CONCLUSION. 

The  snow-drops  of  this  spring  are  as  pure  and  fresh  as 
they  were  when  the  world  was  young.  The  birds  wel- 
comed the  sunrise  this  morning  with  as  keen  a  joy  as  they 
did  when  first  he  dawned  on  Eden.  Infant  life  is  as  fresh 
to-day  as  when  the  first  child  earth  ever  saw  played  at  the 
feet  of  Eve ;  and  spiritual  life  is  as  fresh  to-day  as  when 
Enoch  walked  with  God.  Nature  never  grows  old ;  the 
youth  of  the  Church  of  God  is  as  unfading  as  that  of  the 
angels  at  the  sepulchre,  the  "young  men"  in  shining 
garments,  who  had  shouted  for  joy  at  the  creation ;  and 
as  the  Church  is,  so  is  each  of  her  members.  The  good 
tidings  strike  with  as  fresh  a  joy  on  the  heart  of  him  who 
believes  them  first  to-day  as  they  did  on  the  shepherds 
from  the  lips  of  angels,  or  on  St  Paul  from  the  voice  of 
Jesus.  And  therefore  the  great  matin  hymn  still  rises 
ever  new  from  earth  to  heaven. 

How  many  sweet  and  joyous,  or  deep  and  touching 
hymns  are  there  in  our  days,  as  doubtless  there  have  been 
in  all  times,  which  never  reach  beyond  the  little  family 
or  social  circle  which  they  gladden  !  How  many  have 
been  written  to  comfort  one  sorrowful  heart,  and,  having 
accomplished  that,  are  heard  no  more  !  How  many  gush 
out  on  occasion  of  some  especial  sorrow,  or  joy,  or  deliver- 
ance, and  are  forgotten  like  the  song  of  the  birds  who 
poured  out  their  happy  music  yesterday  morning  ! 

Yet  none  of  these  are  lost ;  they  reach  God,  to  whom 
they  are  sung,  and  they  speak  of  Him  to  man — and  more 
neither  song  nor  singer  can  seek  to  be  or  do.  And  not 
only  this.  There  are  tens  of  thousands  who  never  wrote  a 
hymn,  who  may  yet  have  made  better  spiritual  music 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE.  299 

with  many  hymns  than  those  who  wrote  them.  The  hymn- 
writer  only  speaks  the  thought  or  feeling  of  all  Chris- 
tians, and  the  echo  may  often  be  sweeter  and  purer  than 
the  original  notes,  because  less  mixed  up  with  self.  The 
faith  which  sees  the  Invisible,  and  is  loftier  than  all  flights 
of  imagination,  is  not  the  dower  of  a  few,  but  the  heritage 
of  all.  The  whole  Church  is  a  Choir  as  well  as  a  Priest- 
hood. The  harps  of  God,  with  the  priestly  robes  of  fes- 
tival, and  the  victor's  crowns,  are  the  purchased  possession 
of  all  who  stand  by  that  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire. 
But  what  those  images  mean,  and  what  that  song  and 
that  joy  will  be,  we  know  not  yet ;  we  only  know  that 
it  shall  be,  and  that  its  first  notes  are  only  to  be  learned 
on  earth. 

Has  there  not,  moreover,  amidst  all  the  din  and  dis- 
cord around,  been  a  growing  beauty  and  power  in  this 
song  ?  Has  there  not  been  a  development  of  Christian 
doctrine,  not  independent  of  the  Bible,  but  evolved  out 
of  it  ?  Has  not  the  Church  been  gradually  mounting  to 
the  height  of  the  Book,  and  can  we  not,  in  some  measure, 
trace  this  in  her  hymns  ?  Is  not  the  expiatory  power  of 
the  death  of  the  Lamb  of  God  more  fully  brought  out  in 
the  Ambrosian  than  in  the  Oriental  hymns  1  Through 
the  wars  and  convulsions  of  the  middle  ages,  when  the 
soil  of  modern  society  was  being  formed  by  the  crumbling 
of  old  civilisations  and  the  upheaving  of  new  races ; 
through  those  times  of  darkness  and  tumult,  when  it 
seemed  so  often  as  if  the  end  of  all  things  must  be  at 
hand  to  close  the  terrible  struggle,  whilst  the  apprehen- 
sion of  the  "  day  of  wrath "  was  often   so  present  and 


300  CONCLUSION. 

vivid,  did  not  the  Cross  shine  more  and  more  clearly  as 
the  one  refuge  from  the  judgment-throne  ?  And  then 
when  instead  of  the  dreaded  judgment  the  long-suffering 
of  God  sent  the  Eeformation,  when  before,  since  the  days 
of  St  Paul,  had  the  world  ever  heard  with  such  force  and 
clearness  the  tidings  of  great  joy — that  Jesus  is  now  not 
the  Lawgiver  and  the  Judge,  but  the  Forgiver  of  sins 
and  the  Saviour — as  from  the  lips  of  Martin  Luther  ? 
Again,  when  in  the  eighteenth  century  Zinzendorf  and 
the  Wesleys  arose,  did  not  the  old  message  gain  some- 
thing fresh  from  the  old  fountain  as  it  issued  thence 
anew  %  To  Luther,  the  Grand  Turk  and  the  Pope  of  Pome 
were  simply  Antichrists ;  to  Zinzendorf,  and  the  evan- 
gelical English  Christians  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
heathen  were  part  of  that  lost  world  which  the  Son  of 
God  came  to  redeem.  To  the  age  of  battle  for  the  truth 
succeeded  the  age  of  propagation  of  the  gospel.  The 
hymn-books  of  the  eighteenth  century  begin  to  contain 
missionary  hymns. 

And  now,  in  our  hymns  of  to-day,  is  there  nothing 
fresh  ?  Does  not  that  "  glorious  hope,"  the  light  of  the  day 
of  the  appearing  of  Christ,  shine  more  brightly  in  some 
of  these  than  it  has  since  the  Thessalonians  "turned 
from  idols  to  serve  the  living  God,  and  to  wait  for  His  Son 
from  heaven  "  1  As  in  the  time  of  the  Eeformation  the 
teaching  of  St  Paul  was  brought  out  with  such  fresh 
power  that  it  seemed  then  first  understood,  and  the  way 
of  salvation  and  peace  was  made  plain,  are  there  not  yet 
depths  in  the  Gospel  of  St  John,  and  heights  in  the  Apo- 
calyptic vision,  a  fulness  of  revelation  of  Him  who  is  at 


THE  NEW  SONG.  301 

once  the  Lamb  of  God  and  the  Son  of  man,  the  Son  of 
God  and  the  Bridegroom  of  the  Church,  which  the  Church 
is  yet  slowly  travelling  up  to  apprehend  ?  May  there  not 
yet  even  on  earth  be  sung  psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual 
songs,  deeper  and  more  heavenly  than  any  earth  has 
ever  yet  heard  ?  For  the  Church  is  not  journeying  away 
from  the  first  Advent,  but  on  to  the  second ;  nor  is  she 
left  to  dig  for  herself  her  treasures  of  truth  out  of  a  Book 
written  in  a  language  dead  for  centuries.  The  Book  is 
spoken  to  her  still  by  a  living  Voice,  the  Voice  of  Him 
who  testifies  of  Jesus. 

The  song  of  redemption  is  no  mere  echo  of  an  earlier 
song  pealing  in  fainter  and  fainter  cadence  from  age  to 
age.  It  is  the  rebound  of  the  living  waters  ever  freshly 
flowing  from  heaven  to  earth  ;  and  if  anything  of  echo 
mingles  with  it,  it  is  the  reverberation  of  a  song  which  is 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer — the  song  of  the  great  multi- 
tude which  no  man  can  number,  which  is  to  burst  on 
earth  in  the  Day  which  is  approaching.  For  there  is  a 
triumphal  entry  to  come ;  the  gates  of  the  heavenly  City 
shall  yet  open  wide,  and  the  multitude  from  within  shall 
meet  the  throng  coming  up  from  the  Jordan  and  the  wil- 
derness, and  both  shall  form  one  adoring  company  round 
Him  who  cometh  no  more  in  humiliation,  but  mighty  to 
save.  No  cross  shall  follow  that  day  of  triumph ;  those 
songs  shall  never  again  fall  into  discord,  nor  be  quenched 
in  tears  ;  and  in  the  temple  in  which  that  procession  shall 
close  there  shall  be  no  Pharisees,  nor  traffickers  to  be  ex- 
pelled, and  no  blind  or  lame  to  be  healed ;  for  none  shall 
glory  there  save  in  One  Name,  and  none  shall  need  heal 


302  CONCLUSION. 

ing,  for  the  Life  Himself  shall  be  with  them,  and  they 
shall  be  like  Him. 

Are  we  also  singing  that  song  to  Him  who  hath  loved 
us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood  ?  Tts 
first  notes  can  only  be  learned  on  earth,  and  we  may  be  sure 
that  the  feeblest  voice  which  has  uttered  but  one  trem- 
bling strain  of  its  undying  music  here,  shall  never  sink 
into  the  bitter  wailing  of  those  who  have  rejected  mercy 
and  forfeited  hope. 

But  if  we  have  indeed  learned  something  of  that  re- 
deeming love  which  has  made  the  song  of  thanksgiving  and 
holy  joy  once  more  a  possibility  for  fallen  and  sinful  man, 
are  we  singing  it  day  by  day  1  Does  thanksgiving  blend 
with  our  first  thoughts  at  morning,  and  our  last  at  night 
— thanksgiving  amidst  trial,  as  well  as  after  it  1  Do  our 
hearts  sing  to  God  as  we  are  about  our  daily  work,  as 
well  as  when  we  are  engaged  in  what  seems  His  more 
especial  work  ?  If  it  is  so,  and  more  and  more  as  it  is  so, 
our  work  shall  become  worship,  and  our  whole  lives  a 
service  of  song  in  the  house  of  the  Lord.  For  in  propor- 
tion as  our  religion  is  a  fountain  of  inward  peace,  will  it 
be  a  source  of  practical  power.  Happiness  is  the  normal 
state  of  God's  creatures,  broken  only  by  sin  ana  its 
bitter  fruits ;  and  the  common  daylight  of  His  presence 
is  joy. 

The  one  sorrowful  act  of  the  Christian  temple-service 
is  accomplished  for  ever.  The  whole  curse  and  bitter 
penalty  of  sin  have  been  borne  by  the  Holy  Judge  Him- 
self, and  in  place  of  the  cup  of  anguish  which  He  drained, 
the  Crucified  presents  to  us  the  cup  of  blessing.     The 


THE  NEW  SONG.  303 

communion-feast  is  our  commemoration  of  Calvary. 
Henceforth  the  oil  of  gladness  and  the  robes  of  festival 
are  the  daily  apparel  of  all  the  redeemed,  and  the  true 
and  native  speech  of  the  Church  on  earth  and  in  heaven 
is  Song. 


THE  END. 


IMS 


Hill 


